The Rising Flame
by ArisenMoon
Summary: As the darkness of the galaxy marches forward to destroy Mankind once and for all, a hero steps forward to fight once again and reforge the legacy of the Phoenician. Only time will tell if he can remain steadfast in his devotion to the Imperium, or if he will follow in the footsteps of the one who came before him.
1. Chapter 1

He screamed. Agony beyond imagine flowed through his veins, covering every inch of his body as he lay crumbled in a heap on the floor. Confusion clouded his mind, preventing him from piecing together the thousands of memories that all fought for control. Despair blinded him as the darkness around him began to overwhelm what little control he had left, threatening to destroy him.

He lashed out, trying in vain to destroy whatever it was that plagued him. He felt resistance in his actions, slight tremors at the edge of his perception that told him he was making contact with something, but it did nothing to lessen his torment. He slowly came to a stop, laying in a weeping, screaming heap as the last vestiges of _him_ began to trail away.

Then it stopped.

As suddenly as it had all begun the pain vanished from his body, and other sensations began to flood his system. Understanding began to come to his mind, thousands of events, thousand of memories and unimaginable knowledge solidifying in his mind. Things began to slowly return to him as he understood them, but there was so much information, it was almost as overwhelming as the pain. He lifted his head, pure white hair drifting away from his eyes, he stared into the blinding light that now expunged the darkness, and revealed to him where he was.

The room was cavernous in size, hundreds of meters in every direction. The floor, walls and ceiling were all a common muted grey, with splashes of a dark crimson mixed in at regular intervals in the shape of a cog. He himself was on a raised dais in the center of the chamber, three meters off the ground and surrounded on all sides by row after row of terminals. Behind them were dozens of raised platforms, each one taller than the one before it and rising up almost halfway up the room.

A feeling of dread more than anything else made him look up. Suspended from chain above the dais was an empty picture frame. The outline of an individual was on it, a clear outline against the surroundings still in the picture. He looked away quickly, the pain at the edge of his mind slowly returning the longer he looked upon it.

It was only then that he noticed the bodies. On each of the platforms, hundreds of cloaked figures lay crumbled in heaps, smoke rising from some of the bodies, and rivers of blood flowing down their elongated supports. Around the terminals before him, hundreds of figures moved about in a rush, their red cloaks dragging behind them as they studied the text running across the screens. Some of the red robed figures were armed with weapons, and they were all aimed right at him.

Slowly rising to his feet, he glanced down at himself. He was naked except for a small loincloth around his waist. Dozens of scars crossed the length of his chest and abdomen, some in patterns that hurt his mind to even look upon. Raising his gaze back to the approaching warriors, he stepped back away from the edge of the dais. The warriors rushed up several sets of stairs that were carved into the side of the dais, quickly forming a half circle across from him. They were all shorter than him, some appearing childlike to him as he regarded them.

His mind ran through the possibilities, strategies forming in his mind for how to deal with the threat at hand. They were armed, but he was larger and likely stronger than them. If he moved quickly he could perhaps break up their formation before they could bring their numbers against him. He would have to figure out his escape afterwards on the move. Just as he was about to launch himself forward, another segment of his memory came into focus in his mind.

He knew who they were.

The hostility left his body as he looked upon the Skitarii in front of him. He looked at the robed figures working the terminals, Tech-Priests of the Mechanicum of Mars. The corpses on the platforms were psykers, by his guess and the feeling of power that still lingered around each of them. On a few he could still see the Imperial Aquila blazoned on their chests, though for many that particular area of their robes had been burned entirely through.

Movement before him drew his attention back to the line of waiting Skitarii, their weapons still trained on him. The center of the formation stepped aside, their aims never wavering as they made room for another to step onto the dais. The woman was different than the others in the chamber. There were no obvious signs of mechanical alteration on her person, and the dark blue and gold uniform she wore set her apart from the Mechanicum. Her jet black hair was pulled back tightly against her skull in a small bun at the back of her skull. Her sharp, angular features hinted at the beauty she once held, though it was long since lost. A massive burn covered nearly the entirety of the left side of her face, forcing her to squint up at the massive form before her as she came to a halt, her hands folded behind her back.

For some reason, he felt more uneasy by her presence than all of the armed Skitarii just behind her.

The sound of her voice startled him, the first words he had her spoken since all of this had begun. He took a step backwards as she brought her hands out from behind her back, crossing them in the form of the Imperial Aquila across her chest and bowing her head slowly, though she never broke eye contact with him.

"My name is Natalia Oskoria, member of the Emperor's Holy Inquisition. Do you know who you are, _my lord_?" The question jarred him as he took another step backwards, more memories coming into focus as he came to a halt at the very edge of the dais, falling to his knees. He saw a figure of pure golden light lifting him up from the ground where he knelt. He saw figures in purple and golden armor pouring across the plains of a world shrouded in darkness. A world, choked in ash and and consumed by the fires of a war that should never have happened. The body of another, defeated on the ground, and the feeling of his sword biting into his neck…

His mind snapped back into control as Natalia approached him, her hand falling to a weapon holstered at her hip. "Do you know who you are, _Son of the Emperor?"_

Those words tore through the last few barriers in his mind, shattering the fog surrounding his mind. He slowly rose to his full height, the confusion and weakness before cast aside and replaced by a surety of purpose, of self. He took a step towards the Inquisitor before him, the simple action causing the Skitarii at the edge of the dais to shift slightly, though Natalia never even flinched as she looked up at the massive figure.

"My name is Fulgrim, Son of the Emperor of Mankind, and Primarch of the Third Legion. Now tell me, Natalia Oskoria, what is an Inquisitor…"

* * *

Hello everyone! This is the start of a story that I have recently thought of. The idea came to me after watching a Lore video for the Horus Heresy, and since then I have not been able to get this thought out of my mind. If you enjoyed this little bit, please like and follow this story. This has been ArisenMoon, signing off.


	2. Chapter 2

The room was silent. Something that surprised Fulgrim, considering the chamber he had been locked in was in the middle of a massive Mechanicum Forge. He could feel the vibrations under his feet as he paced the room, the echoes of distant machines endlessly producing weapons of war for the Imperium, and countless millions of workers sacrificing their lives, willingly or otherwise, for the betterment of those they would never see. It was an efficient system. It was an uncaring system. Inelegant, and yet necessary for the good of the majority. He had long debated the position of the Mechanicum in his past. He could still remember the conversations he had with his Lord Commanders on the subject.

The thought brought him to a halt in his pacing, the white robe he had been given moving for another second before halting as well. Memories that were his, and yet not his. He could remember everything as clearly as if it had happened yesterday, but thousands of years had passed. It was confusing to think about to say the least.

He turned away from the one window of the room, looking out over the landscape of the Tech World. It wasn't much of a view if he had to be honest. Huge pillars of smoke rising into the air blotting out the sky, and red tinged metal as far as the eye could see. Not to mention the four large Mechanicus gunships hovering just outside the window of his room. Large heavy bolter cannons tracked his every move as he made his way back further in the room, taking a seat in one of the few pieces of furniture present, sized specifically to that of a Primarch.

He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaning his head against his crossed hands as he closed his eyes. It had been an eventful first day in this new era for certain. He had been escorted from the room he had awoken in by the Inquisitor Natalia and a full Company of Skitarii to the room he was currently in now. The moment he was through the threshold they had sealed the chamber behind him, the door completely vanishing among the rest of the wall. It had taken him less than two minutes to track where the locking mechanism was placed within the wall, and another minute afterwards to deduce where the power cables in the walls were the most vulnerable. If he wanted to, he could break out of the room and fight his way free of this place, perhaps he could escape off world. He didn't like the long term odds, and the fact he had no idea what the larger galaxy looked like at the moment stayed his actions. He needed to think things through clearly, plan out every step of the way. He would not remain a prisoner here forever.

Fulgrim felt the vibration of approaching figures long before he heard the locks disengage on the door. He sat silently as the chamber was opened once again, a wall of light on the other side briefly blinding him before his eyes adjusted. The first figures to cross the door were six Skitarii soldiers, fanning out three to either side of the entrance, their rifles held close and at the ready as they stared down the Primarch. Following them was Inquisitor Natalia, her blue and golden clothing standing out starkly to that of the more common red and grey of the Mechanicum. She was much more heavily armed for this meeting though. Two powerswords were strapped to her back in easy reach, and Fulgrim spotted the outline of at least nine different small blades scattered across her person.

Despite the fact she didn't even reach his eye level even when he was seated, she showed no fear. There was a danger resting just behind her eyes, and Fulgrim was certain she would be a dangerous opponent for anyone else, perhaps even an Astartes. Perhaps he would see at another time.

"Do you know who you are?"

Fulgrim sighed as the Inquisitor began to lay into the questions she had been asking him for hours during her repeated visits. Everytime she asked he was able to give her the same answers, his confidence in his responses growing with each repetition. He no longer had trouble remembering his name, or his past. However, he felt it was finally time that he got the answers he was looking for. Before she could ask her next question Fulgrim raised his right hand. The Inquisitor fell silent, her hands darting above her to grip the handles of her swords, and the Skitarii behind her snapping their weapons up to train them on his chest and head. He waited a few more seconds before lowering his hand, staring the Inquisitor in the eye.

"How did I get here? The last thing I remember I was on Istvaan, fighting my brother, Ferrus Manus when I…" His voice wavered as the scene played in his mind once again, the act of beheading the brother he had been closest to, the one who had stood by him from the beginning. He felt bile rise in his throat as he leaned forward, hanging his head slightly as he folded his hands across his legs. Slowly he raised his eyes back to the at of the Inquisitor, seeing the the cold, calculating mind within working. Finally, the Inquisitor nodded her head, lowering her hands from her weapon, the Skitarii following suit. Folding her hands behind her back, Natalia nodded her head to the Primarch before speaking once again.

"Three decades ago, the wreckage of the _Pride of the Emperor_ was found by a Mechanicus explorator fleet. All available forces in the vicinity were brought in to investigate the hulk, including myself and several of my colleagues. We searched the vessel from bow to stern, finding no survivors and everything destroyed. However, we did find a single picture within one of the vessels larger rooms, which we believe to have once been a dining hall or performance chamber. There, we found a dozen dead Astartes in a pile around the picture frame. A single record was found within the only terminal still operable on the ship."

Turning, Natalia dragged one of the smaller chairs in the room forward, leaning back against it and folding her arms across her chest.

"A majority of it was unreadable to say at the best, but a small section detailed the history of the painting. What befell the ship we are still uncertain of, but one of the Astartes Librarians present in the search party stated he felt a single presence within the painting. Under my guidance it was secured and brought back to the nearest Inquisitorial outpost, located here on this Tech World. We have spent the time since than attempting to contact what was inside the painting, when we were able to bring you out. You know what happened after. We were hoping that you would be able to tell us what happened there."

Fulgrim shook his head, leaning back in his chair and bringing his right hand up to his face, rubbing his thumb across his chin as he digested the information that had been given to him. He stared into the distance for a few minutes as more memories flooded into his mind, ones he wished would have stayed forgotten.

"I was not alone in that painting. When I...killed my brother on Istvaan, a creature offered me freedom from my past, release from the torment that plagued me. I accepted, and was trapped within the painting while the creature possessed my body. However, I was able to escape, or rather part of me was. The darkness that the creature had fed on within myself tricked the creature, trading places with it. However, not all of me was able to escape. I was left behind to face the creature while the other half of me escaped. We fought one another for longer then I can remember, trading wounds but never being able to kill the other. In the end the daemon gave in, casting a spell the free itself from the painting, though mortally wounding itself in the process. I was left alone in the darkness…"

He paused, looking up as Natalia sat up from her resting position. She turned to look at one of the Skitarii soldiers standing behind her, before turning back to lock eyes with Fulgrim. "Whatever escaped that painting likely killed those aboard the _Pride of the Emperor._ If so, it explains the state in which many of the bodies were found." Nodding to herself, Natalia stood up from the chair, pushing backwards in her haste as she turned and walked back towards the door. She paused just at the threshold, turning her head back to look at Fulgrim before calling out to him as she departed the room.

"I shall have food and drink brought to you here. Thank you for your time...Fulgrim." He nodded his head to her back as she left the room, the six Skitarii following after her though none of them turned their backs to him. Once they were all out the door closed behind them, once again leaving Fulgrim along in the room.

Alone, with nothing but his thoughts.

As the refreshments were brought into the room, he noticed a datapad placed on it. Pushing the food to the side, Fulgrim picked up the datapad, the screen coming to life and displaying a wall of moving text. Quickly reading the first few lines, Fulgrim noted that it told of what happened immediately after the Istvaan system. It told him of the 'Horus Heresy', and the time that came after. As the food brought to him grew cold he continued reading. As darkness began to set across the world outside his chamber, he continued reading. For hours he remained immobile, his mind growing heavy with each word that he read of Imperial history since his imprisonment within the painting.

Tears streamed down his face as he rose to his feet in a flash of motion, grabbing the chair that he had been sitting in a moment before and hurling it across the room. The chair shattered against the wall in hundreds of pieces as Fulgrim gave into the agony and rage he felt within himself.

The fate of his father screamed in his mind as he destroyed a table. The fall of the Imperium into a realm of religion and brutal corruption, and the destruction of all his Father and brothers had fought for played across his mind as he destroyed the bed. The information on his other self, the Fulgrim that had escaped so long ago, and the fate of the legion forged in his image, the legacy his sons had created…

He fell to his knees, rolling forward and laying his head against the cold metal of the floor as he wept. He continued to weep long after the morning dawn crested in the distance.

He wept until he ran out of tears.

* * *

Hello everyone, I truly hoped you enjoyed the second chapter of this story. Please leave a review below of what you thought so that I can make the story better for all of you. ArisenMoon signing off.


	3. Chapter 3

Natalia was conflicted and uncertain. It was a feeling she loathed with all of her being. She was one who acted with suritey in all things, confident in her own abilities and judgement to do what was for the good of the Imperium. She had developed this knowledge over the course of the seven decades of service she had as an Inquisitor of the Ordo Hereticus, tracking down the enemies of the Imperium within with unwavering drive. Thousands of traitors had died by her hand, and dozens of worlds were saved by her quick judgement and unwavering resolve.

She always knew what was best, and yet in this moment she was unsure.

She had given Fulgrim, or whatever it truly was a record of the Imperium of Man from the eyes of the Inquisition. The dark truths that they kept hidden from the galaxy at large for it's own good. The secrets kept in their records would corrupt the minds of the lesser masses of Mankind, and tear the Imperium that had stood for ten thousand years apart. But she had, using her own clearance within the Inquisition, and without checking with her superiors made a copy of it available for Fulgrim to read. The potential damage that it could do was unimaginable. The Fulgrim that the Imperium of Man knew this day was a threat few could ever hope to face. If the one currently held in her custody was to fall as well…

She shook her head at the thought, turning away from where she stood in the small alcove that served as her office. For some reason she felt she could put her faith in this Fulgrim, this Primarch reborn. The Imperium had already been saved from the brink of destruction by the return of one loyal son of the Emperor. Perhaps it could finally rebuild and retake the galaxy with the arrival of another. That is why she did what she did she told herself. For the good of the Imperium, Fulgrim was needed.

She departed the small room, glancing back only briefly to see the two Skitarii soldiers fall into step beside her. The Inquisitorial outpost on this world had been small, a single structure built into a mountain on a barren rock. However, when the picture containing Fulgrim had been discovered they had needed to take it somewhere secure and out of the way, but with the resources needed to work on the project at hand. No existing Forge World or Inquisitorial Fortress could have been risked, so a solution was made. The Inquisition 'gave' control of the world to the Mechanicus, stating their need of it was over. In the three decades since, a single Factory City had been built on it's surface, entirely encircling and hiding the outpost. The resources it produced had been funnelled into the project, allowing the Inquisition and the Mechanicus to work closely together to accomplish their task. It had been difficult at times to work with the Mechanicus equally, but their insight had been invaluable.

She made her way towards the chamber Fulgrim currently resided in. It had been three days since she had given him the datapad, and two days since the screaming and commotion had ceased. The gunships outside the chamber reported that Fulgrim had not moved in twelve hours, simply remaining in the center of the room.

Coming to a halt before the entrance of the chamber, she nodded to the two Skitarii guarding the entrance. Without moving a muscle they sent the digital command to open the door, two bright lamps hanging above it bursting to light and blinding anything just inside the room. An added security measure Natalia had put in place, though in truth she doubted it would do much good. It was the thought that counted at this point as she stepped across the threshold of the room, her Skitarii escort following closely behind her.

She paused as she took in the scene of the place, her eyes widening briefly before resuming her neutral, cold gaze. She had been told he had lashed out, but to see the destruction herself was something else entirely. Every thing in the room had been destroyed. Every chair, table, even the bed and shelves had been torn apart and shattered into thousands of pieces. Large chunks of the wall appeared to have been caved in from heavy impacts, something Natalia was shocked to see. She had her tales of the prowess and strength of Primarchs, a level above even that of Astartes, but to see the full scope of it was frightening. She locked those emotions away however as she turned her full attention back to the kneeling figure in the room.

Fulgrim still wore the robe he had been given days before, though it was torn in several places and holding on by barely a thread in other spots. In the gaps Natalia could see the numerous scars that crossed his body in every shape and size imaginable. Wounds earned in battle against the Daemon that had been trapped in the painting with him, she was certain. His shoulder length pure white hair hung like a veil around his head, obscuring his features as he stared down at the floor before him.

Stepping forward, Natalia lowered herself down slowly to crouch before the Primarch, searching for his eyes for several moments before finally speaking.

"Fulgrim...?"

* * *

He jumped slightly at the voice, the first one he had heard in days. Lifting his head, Fulgrim made eye contact with Natalia, her hard piercing gaze staring into him. He could see her mouth moving, forming more words as she continued to speak to him, though he did not process them. He began to lower his head again until a sudden flash of movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention. A moment later, he felt the warm sting as Natalia's slap registered across his face.

Fulgrim lurched to his feet, glaring down at the woman before him, who returned the ferocity of his gaze. After several tense seconds Fulgrim felt a smile across his face. He could not remember the last time a normal human had dared to strike him. It was humorous enough to distract him from his thoughts, though a single glance at the Skitarii soldiers behind her, their weapons at the ready was enough to remind him of why he had needed to be struck.

Turning away from Natalia, Fulgrim walked the short distance across the chamber to where the datapad was, resting on top of a pile of destroyed furniture. He picked it up, holding it delicately in his hand as he slowly ran his thumb across the screen, undamaged despite his rage brought on by what it contained. Without turning around Fulgrim held the datapad behind him, waiting until he felt the device leave his grasp before finally speaking.

"Everything that was on there...is it true? Fully, entirely true?" Fulgrim turned his head to the side slightly, just enough to see Natalia nodding her head out of the corner of his eye. Closing his eyes, Fulgrim extended his arm out and rested it against the caved in wall next to him, leaning his weight on it as he brought his other hand up, rubbing it across his face as he he felt a rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him again.

"Why...why did you free me? If even half of the accounts of what the other half of me has done than you should have burned that painting. I am a risk to the Imperium, a risk that should not be allowed to live…"Fulgrim turned to face Natalia as he spoke, sorrow and pain etched across his face as he faced the grim features of the Inquisitor. His face darkened as he suddenly rushed towards the group, a blur of motion to them.

"YOU SHOULD JUST KILL ME!" His voice boomed through the room, echoing even as he came to a halt just before Natalia. In a surprising display of speed she had drawn one of the power swords from it's sheath on her back, holding the blade before her. The humm of the weapon filled the room as Fulgrim glanced down at it, feeling and seeing the tip of the blade digging into his chest. A small trickle of blood stained the front of his robe, the sight bringing another smile to his face. Lifting his eyes, he met the steely gaze of the Inquisitor, for once her eyes were filled with uncertainty.

"Well? I am a threat to the Imperium, _Inquisitor Natalia._ Do your duty." Silence gripped the room as no one moved, the Skitarii glancing briefly at Natalia to see what she would do. She herself held the gaze of Fulgrim for several more moment, before she slowly lowered the blade in her hand to the ground. She sheathed the weapon in a single motion, turning on her heel in the same action and walking across the room. She gazed out the window of the small chamber, looking across the field of factories and other buildings that dotted the landscape.

"You are a threat to the Imperium. I cannot deny that, and to do so would be a grave failing on my part. There are those that I call friends that wouldn't have hesitated to kill you. To purge the threat before it could manifest into something that could threaten the Imperium. Perhaps I still should…" She raised her arms, folding them across her chest as she thought for several moment, composing her thoughts before turning slightly to face Fulgrim.

"But I shall not kill you, at least not today. I believe that you can be of great use to the Imperium, whether you believe it or not. A Primarch is an asset that we cannot afford to lose, not now. The Imperium that your father created needs you now more than ever, Primarch. If you are too cowardly and weak to stand up and fight for it, than you disgrace the Emperor." A smile crept across her face, the first Fulgrim had ever seen on her as she took several slow steps towards him.

"The Emperor couldn't have been as smart as they say. Creating a weak, pathetic Primarch such as yourself could not have been the work of a truly great individual. Or perhaps you are just a failure he could never have hoped to correct." The smile fell from her face as a sense of pure dread washed over Natalia. She only had time to blink before Fulgrim launched himself into action. In a single move he turned and struck all four Skitarii in a single back handed blow, sending them flying against the wall behind them. In the next instant Fulgrim had his other hand around Natalia's throat, pinning her against the wall.

All of her training fled her in an instant as she gazed into the eyes of an enraged Primarch. She shot her hand out quickly to still the movement of the Skitarii as they slowly got back to their feet, the action halting the gunships just outside the window as well as she kicked her legs out, trying to find something to establish herself on. She stopped moving entirely as Fulgrim leaned in slowly, his eyes inches away from her own.

**_"You do not know my Father. He is the greatest man to have ever lived. Should you ever speak of him like that again, no army shall be able to protect you." _**The words came out as barely above a whisper, though they held enough malice and rage to deafen a million voices. Natalia glared up at Fulgrim as his hand kept her suspended several feet off the ground. Choking against the strain, she spat out her next words, each one dripping with anger.

_"Then...fight for...him or you...will truly disgrace him..."_

The anger on Fulgrim's face slowly dissipated as he broke eye contact with Natalia, looking down at the hand around her neck. He loosened his grip, lowering her to the ground , releasing her fully before turning and walking away. The Coughing Natalia made her way back across the room to the waiting Skitarii, glancing back at Fulgrim as he stood silent as a statue, his arms folded across his chest as he stared out the window of the chamber. She opened her mouth to speak when the sudden movement of the Skitarii next to her silenced her. They turned and stormed out of the room, leaving Natalia and Fulgrim along as their footsteps thundered down the hallway into the distance. Fulgrim turned to look over his shoulder, his eyes widening for only a moment before he turned around, glancing out the window. He was just in time to see the four gunships hovering there peel away, shooting into the distance before vanishing in the smoke cover above.

Fulgrim watched after them for a few seconds before turning to face Natalia, the grim features Fulgrim had come to know having returned. He could still see the mark around her neck where his hand had been but a moment before. The two figures locked eyes, before Natalia gestured for Fulgrim to follow her.

"We are under attack."

"I know."

The two departed the chamber together, rounding the corner just as a large ball of fire pierced through the atmosphere, tearing it's way through the sky before impacting the ground, the impact sending vibrations for dozens of kilometers in all directions. Moments later, hundreds of objects began to break through the smoke cover after it, taking the shape of drop pods and troop transports. Weapon fire from across the Forge City arched up to meet them, with many of the invaders being blown out of the sky, but many more made it through the barrage. Fighting erupted across the Forge City as Mechanicum forces moved to counter the invaders, matching them blow for blow across the entirety of the City.

But more were coming.

* * *

And there it is, the beginning of what will soon be a interesting and exhilarating battle. As always if you have any thoughts please leave a review after reading this story, so that I can make it better for you all, and myself. ArisenMoon signing off.


	4. Chapter 4

Fulgrim could hear the sound of warfare in the distance. The roar of engines as ships tore through the atmosphere. The bark of anti-aircraft fire ripping up to meet them. The explosions as warriors fought, locked together in the brutal slaughter as they tore into one another with reckless abandon. These things did not trouble Fulgrim. He was the perfect genetically crafted warrior. A general forged to fight in the greatest military campaign the galaxy had ever seen. The sound of warfare did not trouble him.

The fact it was drawing closer though, was another matter entirely.

Fulgrim and Natalia moved side by side through the Inquisitorial outpost, passing Skitarii, Servitors and the occasional Tech-Priest as all moved to combat the threat that even now plagued them. None of them paid Fulgrim any mind as they rushed to carry out their tasks, focused and determined to defend this world from the enemies of Mankind. The sight of it warmed Fulgrim slightly, though he could not forget that minutes before, he had been their prisoner. It would be interesting to see how things would develop after this fighting was done.

Given that they survived of course.

The two figures came to a halt at a junction of four corridors, waiting as a column of Skitarii soldiers rushed down the corridor in the opposite direction, quickly descending a set of stairs. Natalia glanced back at Fulgrim for a moment, her eyes questioning for the briefest moment as Fulgrim stared at the unguarded staircase. It was several seconds before he tore his gaze away from it, his mind refocusing as he looked down at the Inquisitor. With a nod, the two set off down the corridor once again.

After several minutes of travel, to a destination Fulgrim was still unaware of, they came to a large gap in the previously never ending red stained walls. Smoke still billowed from the edges of the tear in the outpost walls, giving Fulgrim his first taste of fresh air, smoke filled as it was. Waving his hand through the air to clear it, Fulgrim stepped to the edge of the crater, the robe around him catching the air. Natalia came to stand beside him, her left hand raised to cover her nose from the smoke. The scene that greeted them both was not welcoming.

Massive factories and warehouses spread out as far as the eye could see in any direction, with a series of mountain in the distance marking the only discernible boundary. Streets and bridges arched over and under the myriad of structures, forming a maze of complex travel and transportation that only an member of the Mechanicus could call simple. It was much the same image as the one Fulgrim had been able to see from his chamber, though not it was all very much changed. Fire billowed from hundreds of separate craters blown into the Forge City from the invaders weapons, new pillars of smoke rising to add to the already polluted atmosphere above. Streets once filled with Servitors and transports had become a maze of skirmishes and running battles, as red robed Skitarii clashed with what looked like poorly armored rabble. Checkpoints were established by the defenders, and the enemy forces charged them in a tide of steel and flesh. What the invaders lacked in discipline and equipment, they more than made up for in sheer numbers.

Under her breath, Fulgrim heard Natalia mutter the word 'cultists.'

As Fulgrim watched, two different Skitarii checkpoints set up on bridges leading towards the outpost spire were overrun by the cultist forces. A advancing force of Mechanicus Battle Automata stemmed the advancing tide of cultists, though Fulgrim could see more of them approaching in the distance. A wing of Mechanicus gunships came from the corner of his vision, firing a volley of missiles into the bridge supports holding up the opposite side. The bridge crumbled without the support columns, dumping the hundreds of enemy soldiers hundreds of meters to the ground below. The gunships quickly pulled off as return fire arched up from a factory roof. The lead gunship took the missile full force, exploding in the air and plummeting down, crashing into another factory roof and igniting the building in flames.

They would not be able to hold out for long at this rate. Fulgrim looked down at Natalia as she gestured for them to keep moving, setting off again at a renewed pace. His elongated quick walk keeping pace with her running.

"Where are the Titans of this world? A Forge World like this should have at least one Legion stationed on it at all times? And what of the orbital defenses, they should have been able to hold the invaders off for far longer, or at least give us more warning." Fulgrim's questions earned him an irritated look from the Inquisitor that she cast over her shoulder. She did not break stride as she called back to answer him.

"This isn't a Forge World exactly. The Inquisition publicly, or as close to as the Inquisition ever does, ceded this world to the Mechanicus a few decades ago, right after we found the painting and realized how many resources we would need. Secrecy was needed, we could not risk questions being asked of the large number of resources and personnel needed to free you constantly being sent to an out of the way, abandoned world. So, the Mechanicus constructed a Forge City here, to provide all that we needed on site. This is no Titan Legion for this reason."

She raised her hand, stopping the two of them as they came to a large sealed door, the cog and skull of the Mechanicus situated on the center of the door, right beneath the Inquisitorial seal. Turning to Fulgrim, Natalia reached into her clothing, pulling out a medallion from around her neck bearing the same seal as that on the door.

"As for orbital defenses, it was decided we would not need them here. The Inquisition found this world by accident the first time. It is not on any known Warp routes, as it's location a closely guarded secret. Even when we ceded control of the world to the Mechanicus, we did not give the exact location. We were relying on the inability of others to find this world to serve as the primary defense." As she spoke, Natalia brought the medallion to a small, unmarked section of the wall. A panel withdrew into the sections of the wall around it as the medallion got closer, revealing an indention that the medallion fit into perfectly. The two of them stepped back as several streams of smoke shot out of the door as it slowly slid open, revealing a brightly lit chamber within. Dominating the center of the room was a massive holographic table, displaying a live visual of the entirety of the Forge City. Icons blinked across the entirety of the City, either in red or purple colors. Given their general preference towards the color, Fulgrim assumed the red belonged to the Mechanicus. In the air around the City, hundreds of icons moved around, no doubt depicting the aerial war currently playing out in low and high orbit.

Tech Priests standing around the table turned their attention to the two figures as they entered the War Room, making space at the table for Natalia as she strode forward. A datapad was handed to her as the Tech Priests returned to the display, speaking in quick data bursts to one another and moving their forces across the battlefield through encrypted communication that were sent from nearby terminals dotting the walls. It was much faster and more efficient than anything the Imperial Guard had. It even outpaced that of the Astartes combat communication, though just barely. Fulgrim took a position just behind Natalia, paying the glances given to him by the Tech Priests the barest attention. None of them trusted him, but apparently Natalia had sent word ahead that he was not to be killed on sight.

Small steps were important.

He did not have much time to spare for them anyway. The moment he had seen the tactical display before him, his mind had begun to work. The Mechanicus were fighting a highly mobile defensive battle. Their air defenses and defense squadrons in orbit were superior to that of the enemy air capabilities, but the odds were constantly turning against them. Almost every dogfight ended in a Mechanicus victory, but more enemy ships continued to descend from orbit, and the Mechanicus losses were slowly beginning to add up. With each passing minute more enemy transport ships were able to pierce through the defense cordon, and land more troops. Mechanicus forces on the ground appeared to be focusing on striking such groups where they could, overwhelming them before they could get a foothold. As Fulgrim watched, he saw two icons representing Skitarii Companies break through into a factory cultist forces had been using as a forward operating base. However, Fulgrim noted that the cultist forces within had not been placed in proper defensive positions. From what he knew and could remember, such rabble had little in the way of combat proficiency, but even they should have been able to defend such a large warehouse better, especially given they outnumbered their attacks five to one. Fulgrim deduced that the Skitarii had likely been allowed to enter the factory. A moment after he had the thought, the factory detonated from internal explosives placed by the cultists at key points. Moments later, a second wave of cultist forces charged through the still smoldering ruins of the factory, overrunning the few remaining Skitarii that had survived the blast, and taking control of another small section of the City.

This was no random assault. Whoever was leading these cultists was a keen tactician, and knew what they were doing. The Mechanicus would do whatever it took to secure and protect their factories, equipment and shrines to the Machine Cult spread out across the City. He could bait them in and wipe them out in such attacks with growing ease, and with every loss the Mechanicus suffered, the invading force could expand their control just a bit more. It would be a costly strategy, but given the numbers this enemy commander had to throw around, it was a cost he would be able to pay easily enough. The more Fulgrim watched the battle play out, the more certain he was that the Mechanicus was going to lose at the current rate.

Turning his attention to another section of the map, he saw a Skitarii column supported by several Mechanicus war constructs pushing up along a primary road, chasing down a withdrawing cultist force. On nearby streets, other cultist forces were also in apparent withdraw as Mechanicus forces pushed forward, though Fulgrim saw the trap as it was slowly closing. The retreating cultist forces were being pushed towards ramps leading up to the main road, directly behind the primary Mechanicus force. To make matters worse, several other cultist forces were already dug in at the opposite end of the road, the likely target of the current Mechanicus thrust. In a matter of minutes several hundred Skitarii soldiers and dozens of war machines would be surrounded and destroyed, but to the current observers, it would appear the Mechanicus was winning the battle.

He had to act. Approaching the table, Fulgrim glanced down at the Tech Priests and Natalia, their attention drawn to him as he gestured towards the display, dragging his finger along the main road the Mechanicus were on, before gesturing to the two smaller forces.

"I recommend halting the advance of your forces along this road and allow the cultists to withdraw. Have them turn around and establish firing lines at these two ramps. These support forces are driving enemy troops their way. I believe the enemy commander intended to use our own troops to funnel his forces into a pincer assault on the main column here, wiping them out before turning around to overwhelm the support troops with reinforcements drawn from the enemy defensive line here. If you wipe out the two enemy divisions at the ramps, you can channel all your forces into destroying the checkpoint with ease." As he spoke, Fulgrim made eye contact with each of the Tech Priests scattered around the table, before finally looking down at Natalia. She was skeptical, as she should be, but from the report in her hand she knew that they were losing the battle. The Mechanicus ships in orbit were being overrun, and the distress signal that had been sent would not likely help them any time soon. She turned to look at the assembled Tech Priests, those that made up the leading members of the Forge City. They knew that they were losing the battle as well, but they would not follow the advice of Fulgrim. Not without her instruction to do so. After several moments, Natalia finally nodded her head, and the Tech Priests turned to begin relaying orders.

The assembled group watched as the Mechanicus thrust suddenly came to a halt, before turning around in an orderly withdraw, leaving a few squads behind to secure their flank. They established firing lines and kill zones at the two ramps several hundred meters behind their previous positions, just as the cultist forces were rushing up the ramps. The first ranks of enemy troops were slaughtered in the opening salvo of weapons fire, throwing their forces into chaos as more fire continued to tear down into them from above. As the cultists tried to advance, the heavy weapons of the Battle Automata tore through their ranks, destroyed the few light vehicles that the cultists had among them. After several minutes of this slaughter, the two Mechanicus pursuit forces arrived, cutting into the rear ranks of the cultist divisions. In minutes the slaughter was over, and the now combined Mechanicus force advanced back up the road, rallying with their rear guard force and launched a full scale assault on the cultist checkpoint. The fragile lines the cultists had assembled were torn down by the advancing Skitarii, and the Battle Automata easily weathered the minimal heavy weapons fire offered in response to them. However Fulgrim was no longer watching the battle. It had been decided as a Mechanicus victory the moment the flanking cultists forces were dealt with. He had to focus elsewhere.

Turning their collective eyes to him, Fulgrim began to issue orders to the Tech Priests around the table. No matter his previous, or even current status to the Imperium was, it's loyal servants needed aid. He was a Primarch, a son of the Emperor of Mankind, one of the greatest military minds to ever exist in the galaxy. A galaxy that had been brought to heel and nearly conquered by the hands of himself and his brothers.

Fulgrim unleashed that legacy on the invaders now.

* * *

Natalia stood at the edge of the War Room, silently watching as Fulgrim and the Tech Priests carried out the defense of the Forge City. Even before she and Fulgrim had entered the War Room, she knew the battle was going poorly. The Forge City and Inquisitorial outpost were just not equipped to face a planetary invasion level of attack. The best defense they had was their isolation and secrecy. With that gone, any battle was a forgone conclusion. The reports she had been given upon her arrival to the War Room had only solidified this view in her mind. Mounting casualty rates, tactical defeats in several sectors, and the arrival of more enemy void assets had almost guaranteed their defeat. Three decades of work, of her life would all be for nothing. Wasted away in the fires of war.

Fulgrim had changed that outlook however. She had heard the stories of the Primarchs of course. Almost every child in the Imperium were raised on the stories of the glorious sons of the Emperor in one way or another. As an Inquisitor, she had been allowed to know more. See the histories of the Great Crusade, and the details of the sheer military genius the Primarchs possessed. She had not paid it much heed then, assuming it to be exaggeration.

To see it in person shattered everything she thought she knew.

Everywhere she looked, they were now _winning_. Mechanicus forces across the City had begun to rally and be redeployed in ways Natalia could not even follow or fully understand. Ambushes were established long before the enemies were even identified. Choke points and firing positions held by only a few squads that held off thousands of enemy forces. Daring thrusts deep into previously lost sectors of the City, destroying everything in their path and reconquering vast swaths of industrial areas. What had been previously been a slow, bloody defeat almost certainly handed to the Mechanicus was now turning into an overwhelming victory. Casualty rates had dropped across the board, and enemy forces were not only being pushed back on all fronts, they were being _slaughtered._

Even in the sky the battle had changed. Fulgrim had ordered several groups of Skitarii and Battle Automata to secure the roofs of several factories previously held by the cultist forces, before sending heavy weapons teams to their positions. Missile positions were established, and Battle Automata equipped with long range heavy weapons by Tech Priests in the field. The makeshift fortresses the factories became quickly added their weight of improvised fire into the low flying aerial duel overhead. Several kilometers worth of airspace were turned into no man's land by the ground forces, allowing the thinly stretched Mechanicus air units to regroup. The supply of enemy troops to the ground was cut in half almost at once, with further losses mounting for every attempt the enemy made to reinforce their troops on the ground.

Fulgrim had done all of that in less than three hours.

Despite the current success they were having, Natalia could not shake the feeling of unease she felt. The enemy had at least a dozen void ships in orbit, ranging from escort size to a heavy cruiser if the last transmissions from the orbital station were to be trusted. If they wanted to, the invaders, whoever they were, could have simply sat back and reduced the entire Forge City into dust from orbit. Instead, they had committed to an overwhelmingly costly ground battle, refraining from even the smallest amount of orbital bombardment. The enemies goal was clearly not their immediate destruction.

They were after something on this world, and wanted all resistance to be eliminated so it's retrieval could be done much easier. There was only one thing on this world currently worth all the trouble the invading force was going to, and he was leading the defense. Whoever it was, they knew Fulgrim was here and they had come to get him at any cost.

She would not let them have him, no matter what…

She was brought out of her thoughts by the sudden change in the atmosphere in the room. She could not immediately tell what had changed, but the sense of foreboding that had previously held the room in it's way had returned. She pushed away from the wall with the foot she had been resting on it, approaching the display in the center of the room. Almost at once, she saw why the mood had shifted once again. Previously secured airspace was suddenly filled with fast descending objects and a new wave of aircraft. Mechanicus forces in their path were blown apart as they moved to intercept, cutting a path straight towards the City below. Weapons fire from the surface roared up to meet the new enemy advance, but while dozens of enemy craft were destroyed, hundreds continued their descent. The objects began to impact all across the City, slamming into the ground at velocity that would turn a normal human into pulp. Mechanicus forces around the landing zones immediately began to withdraw as the new wave of enemy troops began to pour out, and Natalia did not need to be told what they were now facing. It was painfully obvious by the look of concern that had washed over Fulgrims face.

The enemy had deployed their Astartes.

* * *

Fulgrim was momentarily shocked by the sudden arrival of the enemy Astartes. The moment he had seen the drop pods assault enter atmosphere, he had been temporarily thrown back into his memories, remembering all the times he had ordered the exact same attack against countless worlds in the name of the Imperium. It was almost nostalgic to see the tactic once again, though it was certainly different to be on the receiving end of the assault. Now he knew how so many countless xenos races and rebellious human worlds had felt upon his legions arrival.

He did not try to counter the Astartes directly, such a tactic would have been suicide for the Mechanicus forces involved. Everywhere the drop pods and troop transports touched down, Fulgrim ordered the general withdraw of local Mechanicus forces, establishing new defensive lines to contain them while Battle Automata and reinforcements were brought forward. Several positions had been overrun already before he could issue new orders to his forces. Previously retaken sections of the City were lost in shock assaults of bolter and blade were lost in minutes, and the few remaining cultist divisions spread out across the City rallied, often led by squads of the newly arrived Astartes.

The new dynamic of the conflict was sudden and surprising, but Fulgrim could not deny the sudden rush of excitement that ran through his body at the prospect. A worthy foe at last, not the weak rabble he had been mopping up for the past hour. These Astartes were foes he could truly test himself against. Enemies he could fight and defeat to further his own path to perfection…

Fulgrim shook his head at the thought, the pain in his mind temporarily paralyzing him. He couldn't let himself fall down the same path he had followed so many years ago. The pursuit of perfection had cost him ten thousand years of freedom and destroyed everything he held dear. He would not make the same mistake twice.

Turning his full attention to the battle at hand, Fulgrim began to issue new combat assignments to many of the reserve forces the Mechanicus had. Skitarii Companies launched daring assaults against Astartes divisions, and Battle Automata flanked and engaged the newly arrived enemy armored vehicles. But, where his previous actions had resulted in undeniable victories for the Mechanicus forces, the new battles more often than not ended in bloody stalemates. On several fronts he had to issue orders to his forces to engage in a fighting withdraw, the sheer force and ferocity of the Astartes assault risking to overwhelm his now dangerously stretched lines.

As he watched, it was becoming more clear what the current enemy objective was. The tactics of the cultists before had been brutal and straight forward, aimed at whittling down the Mechanicus defense forces. The Astartes however were moving with purpose. Advancing on a single objective.

They were coming for the outpost.

In a split second decision, Fulgrim ordered his forces to open a hole in their lines. The Tech Priests glanced at the Primarch in confusion but issued the orders nonetheless, having come to trust his judgement, at least in battle in the past few hours. Mechanicus battle lines before the advance of the Astartes vanished, melting away before their iron fisted advance. Almost at once the scattered enemy forces began to rally, forming a single spread head that drove towards the Inquisitorial outpost set at the center of the Forge City. The advance was slowed however, as all Mechanicus forces Fulgrim had pulled away from the front lines were now launching flanking assaults on the spread head. The enemy forces would be whittled away as they pushed ever closer to their objective, but they would get here either way.

Natalia could tell as well, watching from just behind Fulgrim as the enemy force drew closer and closer to the foot of the outpost. Mechanicus forces spread out around the foot of the outpost were digging in, fortifying the only entrance to the large spire, and sniper teams were setting up in the few windows overlooking the main approach. They couldn't stop the Astartes in the hundreds of battles across the City they had been fighting before, not without risking losing complete control. Most of his forces would continue to defend the rest of the city against the new waves of cultist forces arriving even now. He would rally what forces he could spare, and face the Astartes personally.

They would soon come to learn that their combat abilities pales in comparison to that of a Primarch.

They would have to face the Astartes directly, and wipe them out before they could do too much damage. Turning to look down at Natalia, Fulgrim grabbed the side of the white robe he still wore, shaking it slightly as he looked at the Inquisitor.

"I am going to need armor."

The Inquisitor nodded her head after a moment of thought, gesturing for him to follow her as the door to the War Room was opened, allowing them to depart. Fulgrim made sure to issue a few last orders to his forces before he turned and set out after Natalia, sprinting down several corridors before they came to an already open and waiting armory.

Dozens of Servitors suddenly rushed around Fulgrim the moment he set foot in the armory, and on instinct he straightened out his entire body, extending his hands to the side. Slowly, armor was fitted over the robe Fulgrim wore. As the process was underway, Natalia came around to stand before Fulgrim, looking up at the Primarch as he looked down in wonder at the armor being fitted to him.

It was his armor. Not a replica, not a exact copy, but _his armor_. He could feel the familiar weight of the purple plate as it settled on his form, the familiar rush of power as his body and the armor linked together. The combat damage it had taken on Istvaan was long gone, with only a single cut on his chest plate indicating it had ever been there. The freshly painted purple and gold of the armor gleamed in the light of the armory as Fulgrim slowly lifted his hands, closing his armored fists as he took in a deep breath, feeling fresh power and strength run through him. He turned to see Natalia walking across the room, picking up _his_ helmet from a repair table.

"Not long after you were freed from the painting, your armor emerged. It was heavily damaged and on the brink of being irreparable. The Mechanicus wanted to scrap it entirely, but after my own inspection to ensure there was no lingering taint, I instructed that it be reforged. Luckily for us all, it was finished yesterday." She extended the helmet out to Fulgrim, watching with a small smile on her face as he gripped it carefully, bringing it up to look into the lenses of it. Through the lenses of this helmet, he had watched countless worlds burn across the galaxy. They had seen his original betrayal of the Imperium, and the darkness that had followed his actions. Now, they would see his redemption.

With reverence, he pulled on the helmet, blinking a few times to make sure all the systems were online as his senses were flooded by stimuli the armor fed him. He turned his gaze back to Natalia, seeing a look of wonder cross her face briefly as she looked upon his form. She had seen Astartes ready for battle before, but to see a Primarch was something different.

Before her was truly an Angel of Death.

* * *

Hello everyone, and thank you for reading the first part of the battle for the Forge City. I had immense amounts of fun writing this chapter, and I hope you enjoy every bit of it as much as I do. If you would like, please leave a review so that I can continue to make this story better for everyone, myself included. ArisenMoon signing off.


	5. Chapter 5

It felt good to be outside. There was almost no wind on this world, and every inch of ground was covered by Mechanicus roads or buildings, but it felt more freeing nonetheless. Fulgrim stood on the steps leading up to the Inquisitorial outpost, a massive spire nearly two kilometers in height, slightly larger then he had hypothesized from his time inside. Smoke still billowed from several locations where enemy weapons fire had struck the outpost, though Fulgrim was glad for it. The smoke provided the perfect cover.

While he stood unmoving on the steps of the outpost, his gleaming purple and gold armor a stark contrast of all those around him, the Mechanicus forces were busy preparing for the coming battle. As he had ordered, the Mechanicus defensive line around the outpost had been withdrawn, and he had made sure to do it in such a way that the enemy Astartes would likely think they had broken through. He had dispatched a majority of those troops to help contain and retake other sections of the City, while a small task force was ordered back to the outpost itself. Along with the current garrison, those troops were now turning the outpost, and the only road leading to it into a bloody deathtrap. Barricades were being constructed, heavy weapon emplacements established, and snipers were being deployed along all the nearby factory roofs, and within the outpost where holes had been torn, using the smoke for cover. Around the foot of the outpost itself, the majority of the Battle Automata Fulgrim had gathered for the coming battle were still being given final checks by dozens of Tech Priests. The Battle Automata were being fitted with numerous close range weapons. Their size and armor Fulgrim hoped would help tip the scales in their favor. They would be the main vanguard to fight beside Fulgrim. The Skitarii were dangerous foes, but in close range combat the enemy Astartes would slaughter them. He would keep them at a distance, where their precise weapon fire could do the most damage.

It was all speculation at this point, but Fulgrim had little other choice. Estimates by Skitarii scouts reported nearly five hundred Astartes had been deployed by the invading forces. Fulgrim could have countered them in open battle across the entirety of the City, in time, but their sudden arrival and brutal initial push had cost his forces dearly. It would have taken time to fully regroup and contain the threat, and by then the enemy cultists would likely have been able to reassert their control across the City. It was clear the Astartes were coming for the outpost, so Fulgrim had given them the opening they sought. He would trap them all here, and allow the rest of his forces to continue combating the enemy across the City, and hopefully hold on to the control they had fought for.

If they failed to stop the Astartes here however, they would be able to turn back and spread out across the City once again. The fate of the entire City, and the lives of every Imperial citizen therein rested on Fulgrim and the elite forces he had rallied here. They would meet them in battle, and defeat them here, no matter the cost. It was a unhappy thought to think that everything rested on a single battle, but Fulgrim knew there was no other way to go about this. Besides, there was one good thing to come out of the coming battle.

He would finally get to see Natalia fight.

Despite his suggestion to remain inside to organize the battle, the Inquisitor had insisted she would go with Fulgrim. Since the invasion of the Forge City had begun, she had refused to allow him out of her sight. Now she stood beside the Primarch, inspecting the two power swords as she paced up and down the steps. She was nervous, Fulgrim could tell, but he was too. He just was better at covering it up, something that helped when you wore a helmet.

He looked down at his own weapon, grimacing as he twirled it casually at his side. He had hoped the sword his brother Ferrus had crafted for him, _Fireblade_ would have emerged from the painting along with his armor, but it was not the case. Instead, the Mechanicus had simply forged for him a massive two handed chainsword in what little time they had. It was not an elegant blade, but it would do for now. He made a mental note to speak to Natalia in the future, should they both survive the next few minutes, to be allowed to use a forge. He longed to hold a blade forged by his own meticulous, precise work.

Sudden movement around him drew his attention back to the present. At the far end of the main street leading to the outpost, several hundred figures began to emerge. At the front of this horde were the cultist forces, armed with mostly makeshift melee weapons and minimal ranged equipment. Seeing them face to face was momentarily shocking to Fulgrim. Their bodies, what sections were not covered in ragged cloth were covered in numerous scars and tattoos that appeared self inflicted. Many of them had even taken to remove their own eyelids, something Fulgrim could pick out even at the long distance between the two groups. Almost to a man, they were all smiling, showing off rows of sharpened teeth as they licked their lips at the prospect of the coming battle, seemingly ignoring the cuts to their tongue as they did so. If anything, they seemed to enjoy the pain as it washed over their body. Behind the cultists came the Astartes. Their power armor was covered in numerous symbols and spikes, marring the once elegant beauty of the armor. Most of their armor was painted a deep black, though the shoulders and legs were a much lighter pink color. However, Fulgrim did not focus his attention heavily on these facts. Most of the Astartes wore helmets, except for one just now emerging from the shadows of the factory. His face was just as disfigured and scared as the cultists, though it still held it's discernible features. However, Fulgrim was not focused on the seeming ruinment of the Astartes either. No, what he was focused on was much worse, and brought a new wave of sorrow and despair over him.

He knew the that warrior.

His name was Marillius Cor. He had been a Sergeant in the Emperor's Children Legion during the Great Crusade. Fulgrim remembered fighting side by side with the man at one point during the Laer Campaign. He had been a man of true nobility, honor and character. He had been the perfect image of the Emperor's Children. Fulgrim had even at one point considered promoting him to become a Captain within the Legion, and one day even a Lord Commander. All those thoughts came crashing down around Fulgrim as he watched Marillius bring the chainsword in his hand up to his face, revving the blade and slowly cutting his own cheek, smiling as blood poured down the now open wound. Just like the cultists, he seemed to enjoy the sheer thrill of pain he got from the self inflicted wound, the smile seemingly stuck to his face growing larger.

Despite himself, Fulgrim felt himself take a step backwards at the revelation of who he was now facing. As he turned his head slowly to take in the rest of the force, he began to recognize more of the warriors without helmets as they emerged. Some faces were unknown to him, but most were warriors he had once called his sons during the Great Crusade. Most of them had followed him without question when he had turned his back on the Imperium so long ago, and pledged themselves to the dark powers that Fulgrim had just begun to understand. He had been spared final damnation by being trapped in the painting, but his sons had not been so lucky.

He slowly fell to one knee, sorrow and regret overwhelming him as he looked upon what he had done to his own sons. His men had trusted him, so long ago, trusted him to know what was best. In his foolishness, he had condemned them to the fate before him now. He had read about it, but to see the depths his actions had corrupted his own sons broke him. It did not even register with Fulgrim to question why the enemy forces were not attacking. They simply stood their ground, staring down the defenders of the outpost, waiting.

Fulgrim did not even look up when the Servo Skull floated down before him.

Natalia had been worried this would happen. Reports had been fragmented and contradicting at best as the the identity of their attackers. Skitarii forces in the field reported seeing armor and equipment, markings and heraldry belonging to dozens of different known and even unknown warbands loyal to the Ruinous Powers. It was not until a few minutes ago that she had received the confirmation that members of the Third Legion were present in the field, and likely the leaders of this particular invasion. By than it was too late to warn and prepare Fulgrim. She stood beside him now, calling to him to try and rouse him from where he knelt. His weapon lay discarded on the ground beside him as he stared down at his own feet. Grimacing, Natalia turned her attention away from the Primarch as the Servo Skull approached their position. She sent quick orders for Skitarii snipers to let it pass for now as it approached, coming to a halt a few meters away from the defense set about the base of the outpost.

Only then did Natalia see that it was not quite like most Servo Skulls. Partly because it was leaking purple warp fire from the sides of it, but mostly because it was still covered in skin. The human head that floated down to them was locked in eternal agony as it's own skin was burned away only to be regrown a moment later. Somehow, the head was still alive, though it had no eyes. They were replaced with projectors which sprang to life, projecting a massive image before them, and revealing a figure Natalia had only read about. The layers of human skin covering his armor, and the surgical equipment dotted around his person made it unmistakable who this was though.

Fabius Bile, the Primogenitor, the Clone Lord, and so many other names. All at once the attack on the Forge City made sense as Natalia stared up at the scared and smiling face of the former Emperor's Children Apothecary turned Chaos Warlord.

"Father_, it has been too long since I saw you." _The words did not come from the image itself, even though it's mouth moved in time with the sound. Instead, the voice came from the Servo Skull, the mouth of the head moving to form the words that were not it's own. As the sound of the voice Fulgrim jumped slightly, his head rising slowly to look up at Fabius. The smile on the Chaos Warlords face grew larger as he clapped his hands together before him, the human faces woven into the cloak around his armor crying out in pain at the action.

"_I always hoped I would get to see you again one day, _Father_, but this is truly a treat I never expected. When I received word from my contacts in the Warp that part of you somehow survived in that horrible painting, I was skeptical. It was not until I tracked down the Daemon that escaped from it and...questioned it that I learned the truth. I have been dreaming of this meeting since then, when I would finally get to speak with you again. The real you, not that serpent within the Eye." _The pure excitement and running across the Warlords face disgusted Natalia beyond belief, though by the subtle reactions she was seeing from Fulgrim, it was far, far worse for him.

"_For the longest time I could not find this world, to save you from these foolish Imperials. But when they somehow released you, every psyker in the galaxy knew where you were. I am just glad I was the first to arrive. I had to be sure though, you understand. When I deployed the first wave of the invasion, I was greatly disappointed to see the utter confusion and disorganization among the Imperial lines, but that all changed when you took command, I assume. All at once I recognized the tactics, the ploys and traps you used. Oh, it was a privilege to see your mind in action once again _Father_. Have no fear, I shall get you off of this world, and all shall be forgiven."_ The smile fell from Fabius's face as he looked down at Natalia, turning all his attention away from Fulgrim and entirely on her. Even though he was not here, she could feel the malice and hatred radiating across the image as he looked down at her.

"_Inquisitor, you shall turn him over to me at once. If you do so right now, I shall spare you and what is left of this barren rock. This is your only chance." _Natalia froze as she looked up at the face of Fabius Bile. Despite herself, she almost felt herself agreeing to the words of the Warlord. Her training took over however, crushing the psychic power she felt trying to worm it's way into her mind. Sweating against the effort, Natalia glared up at the image of Fabius Bile before them all, bringing up one of the power swords in her hand in a combat salute.

Fabius simply nodded his head in response, turning to look at Fulgrim one last time before the image vanished. A moment later, a Skitarii sniper round pierced through the Servo Skull, ending the agony of whoever it had once been. Almost at once Natalia felt the weight lift from her mind as the psychic link was severed. She did not have time to recover however. Looking up across the street, Natalia saw the front ranks of cultists begin to advance, encouraged by the Astartes waiting just behind them. Moments later, Skitarii and Battle Automata fire ripped into the advancing horde. Hundreds collapsed from the sheer weight of fire, but more advanced to take their place. Natalia watched as several squads of Astartes broke off from their holding positions, rushing into the nearby buildings the moment they pinpointed the location of the defense fire.

Natalia stared at the onrushing tide of flesh and corruption that charged their position at the base of the outpost. She looked down at Fulgrim, still frozen in place and shock. She could not allow Fabius to get him. She was certain he was not doing this out of some long lost loyalty to Fulgrim. He was a Primarch, a pure and untainted source of genetic material that Fabius could not get anywhere else. Natalia knew of the horrors Fabius could create using the tainted gene-seed of his ilk in the Eye of Terror. She dreaded what he would be able to unleash on the fragile Imperium if he could get ahold of Fulgrim.

Turning back to the approaching cultist horde, Natalia began to march down the steps, bringing the two power swords she wielded to the ready. Without hesitation she charged across the clearing between the two forces, raising the blades to strike down the first heretics that stood in her path.

"For the Imperium!' Her call was not taken up vocally, but she felt the vibrations beneath her feet as her allies followed her charge. In moment she was outpaced by the advancing Battle Automata as they charged headlong into the cultist advance. As the two lines collided, and cultists were thrown through the air or crushed underfoot, Natalia blocked out everything except her training. Only one thing was on her mind as she whirled through the cultist horde, cutting down scores of enemies in just as much time.

Death to the Heretics.

Fabius Bile. Fulgrim had given him permission so long ago to experiment with Astartes, to try and improve them to become the ultimate warriors beyond what even the Emperor was capable of producing. It had been arrogant than, and as Fulgrim looked upon what Fabius had become, with or without his help, he could not help but wish he could go back and kill himself before he turned his sons into the thing they have become. Perhaps they still would have fallen, but at least the guilt he felt would be finally gone.

Slowly he lifted his head, looking out across the scene of violence unfolding before him. It felt so distant, unreal almost. Fulgrim watched as Battle Automata seemed to move in slow motion, their every action slaughtering cultists in droves. He watched as Natalia, swords in constant motion cut a path through anything that stepped in her way. It did not matter. All he could focus on was the fate of his legion.

He did not register the volley of rockets that shot out from behind the combat zone, arching up and impacting the sniper positions the Skitarii had been using. He did not react to the debris as it rained down around him. All he could do was watch as the battle that had been going so well for the Mechanicus forces suddenly turned against them, as the corrupted Astartes that were his sons entered the battle. Where the cultists had been slaughtered, the Astartes held their own. Battle Automata began to fall in increasing numbers as more Astartes joined the fray. Chain axes and swords tore into the plate of the Battle Automata, while the power mauls and claws of the Mechanicus tore through Astartes ceramite. For all their might however, the Battle Automata were outnumbered. Slowly, the combat line before the outpost began to get pushed further and further back. Pairs of Astartes or even whole squads worked together to pull down the larger Battle Automata, while the Mechanicus forces were forced further and further into isolation as the enemy advance pushed forward.

A whole was finally torn in the line, and Fulgrim watched as Marillius Cor approached him, blood splattered across his face both old and new, and a chainsword held loosely in his left hand. Fulgrim fell backwards as his son drew closer, before coming to a halt right before the Primarch. Slowly, Fulgrim reached up and removed his helmet, letting his pure white hair fall out around him as he looked up at Marillius. He saw a moment of hesitation cross his sons face as he looked upon the features of his Primarch. A flash of sanity returned to his face, the smile gone as he looked at Fulgrim, but just as fast it was gone. Smiling, Marillius reached down to grab ahold of Fulgrim, except his hand never made contact. The hand in question fell to the ground, a look of surprise briefly crossing the Astartes face as he stumbled backwards.

Fulgrim watched as Natalia slowly put herself between him and Marillius, her two power swords brought up to the ready. She did not have to wait long as Marillius launched himself forward, his remaining hand still gripping the chainsword there. The ensuing duel happened in a near blur of motion, though Fulgrim was able to follow it easily enough. Despite his wound, Marillius was still an Astartes, and like many of his sons, a superb duelist. His attacks, while not as elegant as they once were, were still masterful and deadly in every way. Despite her considerable skill, Natalia was slowly losing ground against her opponent. Finally, Marillius struck at just the right angle to throw Natalia off balance. The moment the opening was made, he struck. Her right arm went flying across the steps of the outpost, before his follow up strike cut across her chest. Natalia fell, her back striking the stairs as her descent came to a sudden end. Stepping forward, Marillius smiled down at her as he brought his chainsword around, plunging it towards her exposed gut.

Natalia gasped as the blow stopped just before hitting her. Both of them looked up in surprise at the hand gripping Marillius's, before looking further back to see Fulgrim slowly rising to his feet. The confusion on his face was gone, replaced with a cold fury that burned through his entire body. In a single move he crushed the hand he held, the sound of bones and ceramite shattering echoing across the battlefield. Pulling Marillius forward, Fulgrim then brought his armored elbow down and around into the Astartes unprotected head turning it into a bloody pulp. He tossed aside the lifeless body as he crouched down next to Natalia. She was losing blood too quickly, and was a miracle she was still alive even now. Turning, Fulgrim gestured for two nearby Tech Priests to take her inside the outpost. Once she was inside, Fulgrim turned back around, facing the growing horde of Astartes forming around the base of the stairs Fulgrim stood on. They remained unmoving, staring up at him uneasily as Fulgrim regarded them. They had clearly been given orders not to harm him.

Fulgrim did not show them the same restraint.

In an instant he was among their ranks, his first strike cleaving three Astartes in half. A follow up strike blocked the attack of another warrior, before a backhanded strike sent two more flanking Fulgrim flying. He set into them, killing every Astartes that stood in his way as he slowly made his way down the steps of the outpost, leaving a trail of broken bodies in his wake. It had taken him sometime, too long in all honesty to realize these _things_ were no longer his sons. No matter what he had done, they had all made their decisions as well. They were monsters, beasts of brutality and destruction that barely resemble humans anymore. There was only one answer for them.

The tide of battle changed the moment Fulgrim stepped off the last stair of the outpost, entering the greater melee around the outpost. He wove his way through the Battle Automata with ease, supporting them where needed while continuing to slaughter the corrupted Astartes with every move he made. The Mechanicus forces began to rally, the pressure finally lifted off of them. They formed together into a spread head behind Fulgrim, driving a wedge into the Chaos forces as they followed his unstoppable advance. No blade broke through Fulgrims' defense, no heretic escaped his wrath.

It was not long before the remaining Astartes withdrew. They were not foolish enough to let themselves get wiped out in this single battle. Squad by squad they began to withdraw, using a new wave of cultist forces to cover their retreat. These Fulgrim cut down even easier, leaving a river of blood and bodies behind him as he pushed to chase down the remnants of the Astartes assault. The Mechanicus weapons fire that trailed the withdrawing Astartes was minimal, their positions having been overrun earlier. Still, a handful of enemy Astartes fell before they were out of range, disappearing between the myriad of buildings that they had used to cover their arrival. They would no doubt begin to spread out across the Forge City once again, sowing chaos and destruction behind the defenders line. This battle was supposed to have wiped them all out, and if Fulgrim had acted sooner it just might have.

But he had not. He had failed.

Still, it surprised Fulgrim that the Astartes had withdrawn so easily. If they had rallied and made a second concentrated push against Fulgrim, they might have been able to overwhelm him with sheer numbers. Something else was going on. As he cut down the last few cultists still in his way, Fulgrim finally saw what just that thing was. Even through the intense cloud and smoke cover above the City, Fulgrim could see the explosions that were going on in orbit above the world. It seemed reinforcements had arrived after all.

Movement at the end of the street drew his attention away from that revelation however. Streaming from every visible street and alley were _thousands_ of cultists, their advance a seeming unending tide. Behind him, the Battle Automata finished dealing with the few cultists that Fulgrim had missed, forming a combat line to either side of the Primarch.

As Fulgrim raised his blade into a guard position, he spotted another wave of drop pods piercing through the atmosphere. Likely more enemy reinforcements being sent to support the withdrawing Astartes. A clever tactic, withdrawing their warriors only to reinforce them for a second, larger push while the cultists kept the bloodied defenders busy. This thought was shattered however when the drop pods began to slam into the ground _inside_ the cultist formation. Fulgrim watched in confusion as cultists were smashed into bloody smears underneath the drop pods, or thrown through the air at the impact. Moments later the hatches of the drop pods opened, disgorging their cargo of warriors into the melee.

The first thing Fulgrim noticed was that these new arrivals were well and truly not on the side of the cultists. Their blades and bolters reaped a heavy toll on the enemy troops, throwing their advance into complete and utter confusion. The second thing Fulgrim noticed was that they were larger than normal Astartes. Taller, broader and wearing armor the likes of which Fulgrim had never seen before. Third, and honestly the most shocking of all, was the fact their armor was painted in the same fashion as his own.

The purple and gold warriors blunted the advance of the cultists, before slowly beginning to encircle them, and putting them all to the blade. The few cultists at the edge of the horde turned and attempted to flee, only to be wiped out by controlled volleys of bolter fire that tore into them from behind. The entire event took less than five minutes to transpire, with Fulgrim watching in awe at the display of precision, organization, and efficiency of the new arrivals. Once the last of the cultists had been dealt with, the warriors approached Fulgrim and the Mechanicus battle line. One warrior, with a white and gold plume on top of his helmet advanced before the rest of the warriors. He came to stand before Fulgrim, just slightly shorter than the Primarch himself.

The pair stared at each other in silence for several moments, Fulgrim looking into the lenses of the warrior, trying to discern the thoughts crossing his mind. Then, suddenly as one the warriors dropped to one knee before Fulgrim, bowing their heads and slamming their right hands over where their primary hearts would be, in the ancient legion salute during the times of the Great Crusade. The leader of the force looked up at Fulgrim as he knelt, his words coming through the helmet clear and precise.

"Father, it is a pleasure to meet you in person. We pledge to you are loyalty, and bend to your will." The oath was repeated by all of the kneeling figures before Fulgrim, echoing in the sudden silence of the street. Fulgrim did not move for several seconds, before reaching down and gripping the warriors shoulder, guiding him back to his feet. Once they were all standing, Fulgrim brought his own hand to his primary heart, returning the salute they had given him. Memories flooded his mind as he looked upon the assembled warriors, perhaps two hundred strong, watching him expectantly. He remembered the first time he had stood before the Emperor's Children so long ago, the images of then and now overlapping in his mind. Without knowing why, he could feel his connection to these warriors, much as he had felt it with the Astartes so long ago, a connection he no longer had felt with Marillius during their brief fight. Perhaps these warriors were truly his sons after all. The warrior before him nodded his head to Fulgrim before turning and issuing orders to his forces, sending them to secure the area and mop up any remaining enemy forces. Turning back to Fulgrim, the warrior reached up to remove his helmet, revealing features similar to Fulgrim's own, and pure white hair cut short around his scalp.

"My Lord, Belisarius Cawl sends his regards, and would like to speak with you."

* * *

And there it is folks, the second part of the battle for the Forge City. The reason for the back to back posting here is that I originally wrote this chapter and the previous one as a single chapter. However, it just did not feel right on my follow up reading, and so I decided to break it in two, and spent the time cleaning it up. Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and spread the word of this story. Also, on a side note, if any betas reading this story would be up for it, I would love to get a bit of help cleaning it up and making sure every chapter is the best it can be for the readers. ArisenMoon, signing off.


	6. Chapter 6

Astelleon moved swiftly through the streets of the Forge City, his purple and gold armor standing out against the reds and grey of the Mechanicum. At his back, nine other warriors wearing similar armor to his own moved in tight formation, their steps echoing in the empty streets as they charged through a small factory, the doors leading in long since blown off. His helmet systems adjusted to the sudden change of lightning in an instant, ensuring that the Primaris warrior never had to break stride. The moment he was through the entrance of the factory, the bolter in his hand shot up, and began roaring it's fury at those who currently resided in the factory.

Scattered around in hastily established defensive positions were dozens of enemy cultists, many caught out of cover as the squad had entered the factory. The precise bolter fire of Astelleon's squad eradicated dozens of the vile traitors, their limbs and heads vanishing in a red mist as the marines began their advance. After several seconds of uninterrupted slaughter, the cultist forces finally began to rally and return fire. Astelleon felt their autogun and las rounds bouncing off his armor, though if he let them continue to fire at him out in the open, the odds of them landing a lucky shot would only increase. He sent a brief order through the squad vox channel, a simple series of orders barked out over the sound of weapon fire.

As one the squad broke ranks, drawing combat knives or other melee weapons if they had them and charging the various enemy positions. Blood sprayed across Astelleon's armor as he cut through the chest of a cultist with his chainsword, the two halves of the body not even on the ground before he was pushing through the barricade, cutting down three more cultists in half as much time as they rushed to try and stop him. It disgusted Astelleon just how eager these wretches were to die at his hands.

In short order the squad had secured the entire factory floor, killing nearly three hundred cultists and taking no losses in return. It was not a glorious battle, nor what is an entirely honorable one, but it needed to be done. Turning away as his men spread out to secure the area and search for survivors, Astelleon opened his vox channel back to command.

"Command, Sector thirty six has been secured, all hostiles eliminated. Awaiting further orders, Primarch." As he waited for the response, he could not help the brief smile that came to his face. Since the arrival of Belisarius Cawl on the Tech World, Astelleon and his brothers had been working under the direct command of their father, the one from which their gene-seed originated from. It was a thought that excited and confused Astelleon in equal measure, though it was a welcome change. He and his brothers had been a closely guarded secret from the rest of the Imperium. While the other Primaris Marines were deployed across the galaxy under the orders of Guilliman, the sons of Fulgrim had been kept hidden. While their cousins earned countless glories and battle honors as they fought across the galaxy, Astelleon had been guarding a backwater outpost while Belisarius continued his work. Now however, they had been unleashed in battle, at the command of their Primarch.

Things were finally starting to look up for Astelleon and his brothers.

Fulgrim listened to Sergeant Astelleon's words, nodding his head briefly as another section of the holographic display changed colors, from red to blue as the Servitors around the table kept track of all the combat information flooding into the War Room. They were a few seconds behind Fulgrim as he kept a mental picture constantly developing in his head, but it was helpful for those gathered around the table.

Fulgrim began issuing his next set of orders as more squads across the battlefield completed their objectives, moving far swifter than even Fulgrim was expecting. These Primaris Marines were impressive, Fulgrim readily admitted. After defeating the Chaos Marines at the foot of the Inquisitorial outpost, Fulgrim had divided the newly arrived warriors into their Company groups, and dispatched them to quadrants, where the individual Captains then divided their forces further to cover all the sectors within their quadrant. In short order, the Primaris Marines had retaken nearly half of the Forge City that had been lost during the push of the Chaos Marines, an action made easier by the departure of said warriors. After their defeat, transports had flown down from orbit and picked up the warriors, ferrying them back into space, where the fleet of Belisarius Cawl even now pushed the enemy voidcraft away. The cultists had not received such an evacuation attempt, and so Fulgrim and the Imperial forces had to deal with the aftermath of the invasion. The remaining Skitarii forces supported the Primaris Marines where they could, though they were largely deployed to secure and stabilize the retaken sectors of the Forge City.

What Fulgrim was overseeing now what not a grand battle as much as it was a simple mop up operation. The Tech Priests would be able to return to command soon as the intensity of the combat died down, and Fulgrim would no longer be needed. The topic had already been brought up by the local Mechanicus officials, though their attempts to take Fulgrim back into custody had ended rather quickly.

Fulgrim did not have to turn his head to know that his honor guard were still situated around the room, their eyes locked with the Skitarii soldiers directly opposite of them. When the Mechanicus forces had attempted to take Fulgrim back to his chambers, his newly arrived sons had nearly attacked the offending Skitarii and Tech Priests. A barely conscious Natalia was able to smooth the situation over, though the hostility was still present. Fulgrim had insisted that all the newly arrived warriors take part in the battle, but Commander Octavius has made it clear that they would not leave their liege lord unprotected. A single squad had been left behind to defend Fulgrim, and ensure the Mechanicum did not try and go back on the deal before the battle was won. Fulgrim doubted they would, but his new sons would not take that risk.

He glanced up at them now, a fleeting glance but enough to take them all in quickly. Their purple and golden armor, so similar to the ones that Fulgrim had led so long ago stood in contrast to the stark grey and red walls of the Mechanicum. It was still taking some getting used to, obviously, but Fulgrim found himself falling back into the command structure he once held so dear. The ferocity, the integrity, and efficiency of the Legiones Astartes once again fought within the Imperium of Man. Fulgrim would not let them go to waste.

His left hand rested lightly on the hilt of the sword at his side as he gestured across the table with his right hand, dispatching orders and issuing commands at a speed that the Tech Priests found acceptable, though any unagmented human would have trouble keeping up. Once he had finished the most recent string of commands, he turned his head to a nearby minor holotable, showing the void battle in orbit. The fleet of Belisarius Cawl was outnumbered nearly two to one in the current battle, but they were winning the day nonetheless. While the Chaos fleet of Fabius Bile was larger, it was made up largely of smaller strike cruisers and escort vessels, and only two cruiser class ships. The reinforcement fleet had used the sheer weight of firepower at it's disposal to tear a hole through the center of the enemy formation, and now used their superior broadside capabilities to pound any attempts the enemy made to regroup into dust.

His thrice-cursed son was many things, but he was no void tactician. He worked best in laboratories and fighting far away from the front lines of any conflict. This type of battle was not well suited for him, and it was showing. This entire endeavor had likely been nothing more than a planned smash and grab assault. The deployment of cultists had been to test a theory, the theory of whether Fulgrim was here or not, and the follow up assault by the Chaos Space Marines in his force had been deployed to secure the target. They had not come equipped for a long term siege or procrastinated orbital battle.

Among the red and purple icons representing the two dueling fleets were dozens of smaller orange craft, flowing through the chaos with precision and care as they fired their payloads into exposed enemy vessels. Once Fulgrim had secured the ground for the most part, he had dispatched all available aircraft to aid the battle in orbit. While the gunships were not the best for void based combat, Fulgrim directed them through the worst of the enemy fire and into locations where their heavy weaponry could do the most damage. Three enemy escort craft had already been overwhelmed by hundreds of dedicated missile strikes to key areas. The openings they tore in the enemy fleet allowed for their allies to further their advantage. It would only be a matter of time…

There. Fulgrim spotted it before even the Tech Priests began to inform each other of the development. The enemy fleet had broken their current combat formations to begin a series of hit and run attacks against the Mechanicus fleet. To others it might appear to simply be a change of tactics to try and turn the tide, but Fulgrim saw through it. The enemy fleet was breaking off their attack and was now beginning their retreat. The smaller vessels were being sacrificed while the larger ships, no doubt commanded by the marines within the warband broke off entirely ad made for the edge of the system. A few Mechanicus vessels broke off to pursue after it was clear the enemies intentions were, though Fulgrim doubted they would be able to catch them. A brief flick of his wrist brought up overlays across every vessel. Charts, statistics and dozens of other variables played across each vessel as they moved across the holotable, enough information to be considered overwhelming at the best of times, though Fulgrim blocked out most of it, focusing instead on the speed indicators and estimates of the fleets in play. The Mechanicus vessels were more powerful, but that strength came at a lack of speed. It was clear the battle in orbit was over.

He leaned away from the holotables then, turning to leave the room. The Tech Priests looked up in brief alarm as the Primarch left on his own accord, and one of them took a step forward to attempt and stop him, though the Primaris honor guard in the room moving quickly to fall into formation, around Fulgrim quickly eliminated any thoughts of stopping him. The small party moved quickly down the hallways of the Inquisitorial and Mechanicus outpost, the ten warriors spread out with four warriors in double lines in front of and behind the Primarch, with one more on either side of him. They held their bolters in their hands loosely but at the ready, and Tech Priests and Skitarii alike moved swiftly to clear their path.

It was only when they reached the lift to the lower levels of the outpost that the message he had been expecting came through.

"Fulgrim, Lord Belisarius Cawl's transport has entered the atmosphere, and will be landing shortly." He acknowledged the transmission with a quick affirmative before cutting the channel. The lift doors opened shortly after in a short hallway, with massive doors at the end that dwarfed even Fulgrim as he stepped through them.

The hangar of the Inquisitorial outpost, like most things in the Imperium, was grandiose and large. The hangar itself had to be nearly fifty meters tall, and twice as long in either direction. No craft resided in the hangar at the moment, as every available ship had been pressed into service by Fulgrim to aid in the defense. Though that would soon change as the massive hangar doors slowly began to slide open. Beams of sunlight began to pour through the opening into the dimly lit hangar. Even at this height Fulgrim could see pillars of smoke rising in the distance from the battle. The mountains in the distance that surrounded the entire Forge City could vaguely be seen, though Fulgrim turned his attention instead to the vessel that broke through the cloud cover.

The entire ship was painted a vibrant crimson, with gold and black lining and details along it's length. Fulgrim spotted at least a dozen different variations of the Cult Mechanicus cog and skull design spread across the length of the craft. He would have thought it to be a simple luxury transport craft if it had belonged to any other, if not for the simple reason it was made for the Mechanicus. While they could build some of the most beautiful vessels in the Imperium for others, they tended to not do it as much for themselves. Practicality over all else. The massive missile pods and heavy bolters slung under the wings of the craft also sent a fairly clear message.

The transport touched down, streams of smoke flowing out as the landing gear worked to hold up the bulk of the craft as it was slowly lowered to the ground by a raised platform. The sound of approaching steps drew Fulgrim's attention away from the ship for a moment as he turned to see a double column of Skitarii soldiers flowing into the hangar. For a brief moment he wondered if they had come to detain him again, though that thought was brushed away as the Skitarii formed up on either side of the lowering ramp of the transport.

This Belisarius Cawl must hold quite a bit of importance to the Mechanicum if he would receive such a welcome while the city was still under siege.

Fulgrim and his honor guard approached the transport, coming to a halt at the end of the Skitarii procession. The Primaris spread out to either side of Fulgrim, five on each end, assuming a parade rest position. The collective group in the hangar waited patiently for several seconds before the first sign of movement from within the craft could be seen. Instead of Skitarii or any other Mechanicus bodyguard, more Primaris marines in the purple and gold of his gene-line emerged from the ship, stepping to the side and assuming defensive positions on each end of the ramp. Despite their formal actions, Fulgrim noted a few added glances in his direction from the warriors. They were wearing helmets, but fighting within one and by the side of those who also wear helmets for so long gives you an idea where the eyes within are actually looking.

Following the Primaris marines was the figure Fulgrim assumed could only be Belisarius Cawl. The red robes of his kind draped heavily over his augmented form, though unlike many of his kind the robes themselves were covered by machine parts as well. A large shell covered the back of Belisarius Cawl with a fin coming off it, and numerous different appendages with various tools and weapons dangled from the thing. Rather than legs, he seemed to move on several spider like claws that moved fluidly underneath the robe he wore, though they would occasionally emerge from beneath the cloth. In his right hand he carries a massive weapon, a great axe by the looks of it if Fulgrim had to guess, though the blades of the weapon were in the shape of the cog Mechanicus rather than straight blades, and a skull sat in the very center of it. Without meaning to, Fulgrim found himself debating the best way to deal with such an opponent in a fight.

Despite his own skills and power, Fulgrim did not doubt it would be far closer then he would like.

He bowed his head in greeting as Belisarius came to a halt before him, the Arch Magos rising up to his height as he took in Fulgrim. He spent several seconds simply staring at the Primarch without saying anything. Finally though, he gave out what Fulgrim could only assume was a positive series of sounds, lowering himself back down to his standard height.

"Greetings Primarch Fulgrim. I have been looking forward to this meeting with great interest."

* * *

Fulgrim savored the drink as it burned its way down his throat, a smile briefly touching his face before he put the cup down on the table in front of him. The stuff he had been consuming since his awakening had been acceptable, but not outstanding. It had been functional, and tasteless. The stuff that Belisarius Cawl had brought was immensely better. Across the room, Belisarius was currently flicking through several datapads of information, regarding Fulgrim, the experiment that freed him, and the combat abilities of the Primaris marines in actual combat. Every once in awhile he would let out a pleased sounding series of mechanical sounds before returning to silence. At first Fulgrim had found it slightly off putting, but he had come to enjoy the brief respite.

He had been coordinating a battle for nearly an entire day, and while it was no where near tiring, it was still a relief to relax after it. He had barely entered the world again after all. He was still getting used to things again.

Immediately after his arrival Belisarius had ushered Fulgrim into a small waiting room near the hangar. Used to hold 'guests' the Inquisitors brought to the outpost, it had two couches and a small table in the middle of the room, though Belisarius refused to sit in the one opposite Fulgrim. In fact, as he read the information he paced the room in quick circuits. If the ouch came to be in his way, his mechanical legs simply extended and he walked over it. Fulgrim found it amusing honestly. Finally, Belisarius read through the last datapad, putting it down on a large stack that had been piling up on the center of the table. He came to face Fulgrim, his servo eyes focusing on the Primarch as they regarded each other in silence.

"You have no understanding of how pleased I am that you are here. I long suspected the truth of that painting, but to actually see you here, in the flesh is quite good. The data pertaining to the battle indicate that you have the same tactical acumen as the Fulgrim in Inquisitorial records, and your combat prowess against your legion indicate exceptional combat abilities well beyond even the Primaris marines." Belisarius continued to spew more information at Fulgrim as he went down a checklist of what he was pleased with. Fulgrim took it all in silence, though one of the things the Arch Magos said drew his attention. He had referred to the the Chaos marines as his legion, present tense rather than past or using one of the various forms of traitor that others here did. It was a minor thing, but it still raised some concern from Fulgrim. He would need to look into it later.

"Finally, your command and control over the Primaris marines of your gene-line, and their loyalty in battle is the final proof that I have been searching for." Fulgrim raised his hand briefly to halt Belisarius, stopping the near constant spewing of information. He asked what the Arch Magos meant, though in response Belisarius only waved his left hand in what Fulgrim suspected was agitation. "Your brother, Guilliman has declared that no Primaris marines were to be created from the genetic template of this Primarchs that betrayed the Imperium during the Horus Heresy. However, you and your Primaris marines are proof that such fears are pointless." Belisarius sounded pleased with this, though Fulgrim shook his head sadly, a frown glued to his face.

"On the contrary, I fear my brother is correct. You do not base scientific proof on a single lucky example. Even before the Heresy, some of my brothers and their legions were...questionable. The World Eaters were always excessively brutal, a trait that my brother Angron only encouraged and brought out. The Thousand Sons pursued knowledge at the expense of reason, risking both themselves and others around them in their endless search of power. The Luna Wolves, or Sons of Horus as would be more appropriate in this case were always arrogant. They had some right to be I suppose, but their pride and arrogance always set them at odds with others. The Night Lords...not even worth the risk. There is room to experiment, I agree, but you cannot jump head long into the creation of these new Primaris marines simply because mine are, at the moment, a success. It was the actions of my other self back then that corrupted the Emperors Children, the genetics did not play into it." As he spoke Fulgrim leaned forward on the couch, his hands gesturing before him as he spoke with Belisarius.

The Arch Magos turned away from Fulgrim and proceeded to return to pacing around the room as the two began to debate some of the finer points of genetics, risks of experimentation, and the potential wrath such experiments could bring from Guilliman. Every mention of his brother brought a wave of worry and regret over Fulgrim. He was already locked in the painting when his other self and Guilliman fought on Thessala. His brother had been mortally wounded by his other self, though he had been banished in turn to the Immaterium. Fulgrim did not imagine that the first meeting between him and Guilliman would go overly well, especially given his brothers stand on the existence of Fulgrims Primaris marines.

Nothing could ever be easy in this galaxy.

Finally, the conversation between the two died down as Belisarius stared out the window of the room at the burning Forge City around them, his advanced eyes picking out the approaching forms of purple and gold Primaris marines. He turned back to Fulgrim, reaching out and grabbing the great axe leaning against the wall and using it like a walking staff as he approached Fulgrim. "Have you decided what you will name your warriors? Given current circumstances, it would likely be best to not name them like your old legion."

Fulgrim nodded his head as he rose to his feet, folding his hands behind the white and purple robe he currently wore. The two of them left the room, and made their way down to the lift leading to the foot of the Inquisitorial outpost. The very thought of a name for his new sons had been weighing heavily on his mind for some time. They needed a proper name, but Belisarius was correct. He could not name them the Emperors Children. Even if he did it to erase the failure of his traitorous sons, the rest of the Imperium would not understand. A new name had to be chosen, and Fulgrim knew what it would be. As the lift doors opened and the two figures walked towards the entrance of the Inquisitorial outpost, still heavily damaged from the battle, Fulgrim calmed his racing mind and prepared for what would come.

* * *

Astelleon stood silently with his brothers at the foot of the Inquisitorial outpost. Locked in tight ranks, nearly one thousand Primaris marines in purple and gold stood waiting as their Primarch emerged from the Inquisitorial outpost, with Belisarius Cawl at his side. The warriors stood proud as Fulgrim looked over them, taking in each of his sons as they returned the look to their father. Commander Octavius, with a white cloak around his shoulders approached Fulgrim, lowering himself to his right knee and extending his sword to Fulgrim. Before he could even touch the ground Fulgrim stopped him, lifting Octavius back to his feet with a hand on his shoulder. He bowed deeply to the Commander before reaching out and taking the ceremonial blade from his son.

Fulgrim had formally just accepted command of his sons.

Astelleon and the other assault forces had been withdrawn to the Inquisitorial outpost by the orders of Fulgrim. The Forge City had largely been retaken, and the remaining cultist forces were being hunted down by the Skitarii troops. Victory at this point was certain, though Astelleon still wished he was fighting out there. This was his and his brothers first taste of true combat, and while they restrained themselves with grim determination and focus, they ad a hard time restraining their excitement. Most of them were only a few decades old, with Commander Octavius being the oldest at just over a century. They were young, but eager to prove themselves. Astelleon was certain they would rise to the challenge, and prove their worth to their father.

After several moments of silence, Fulgrim began to speak, his voice easily echoing over the assembled warriors.

"My warriors, my sons. I look at you all and feel humbled in your presence. I have not know you long, but I have seen the courage you all have. I have seen the dedication you all fight with in the name of mankind, and I have seen the fury you hold in your hearts for those who stand against us. You are true warriors of the Imperium, and I could not ask for better warriors to call my sons." as he finished speaking, Fulgrim bowed his head to them all, before slamming his fist across his chest in salute to the warriors present. In unison a thousand fists responded in kind, and the sound of ceramite clashing echoed around them for several moments. Fulgrim let the silence stand before he continued again.

"Warriors such as yourself deserve a name. From this planet we shall rise to the challenge of defending the Imperium. From this day forward, you shall become paragons of loyalty, duty and honor. Your names shall ring out across a galaxy as heroes and protectors of the innocent, a warriors who will not hesitate to do what they have to, and sacrifice what they must so that those we have sworn to protect may live. You shall rise from the ashes of all that humanity has lost, and and light the fire anew to rebuild a galaxy that so desperately needs us." He paused as he let the words sink in among the gathered warriors, the feelings of curiosity and desire burning through Astelleon and his brothers as they stared up at their Primarch, their leader, their father.

"You shall be the Phoenix Guard, and you shall know no defeat."

The assembled warriors did not cheer. They _roared._

* * *

And finally the story continues. Sorry for the delay, but sadly school became overwhelmingly busy and by the time I finally caught up with all my work, it was time for finals. Now that the semester is over though, I will be able to return with greater regularity and dedication to this story. Thank you all for reading, and if you enjoyed it please like and follow the story. If you have any questions please leave a review. ArisenMoon signing off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Everyone, this is a warning for the chapter you are about to read. It is a bit on the gory and visual side, so if that bothers you I advise you to skip down to the end of this chapter. Please enjoy.**

* * *

Jerold coughed up blood for the third time in the past hour, the dark spray staining the front of his shirt and the exposed panel he worked on. Around him a few other crewman gave him worried glances though they kept doing their own work, the bags under their eyes the only sign that they had not slept for nearly a week. Earlier in that very week, an explosion from a faulty heating unit had blown out, sending shrapnel into half a dozen people and burning two others before it could be brought under control again. The few medical personnel they had did what they could for Jerold, and sent him back to work with nearly a dozen pieces of metal tearing him apart on the inside slowly. It would kill him eventually, but until than he was still able to work.

They needed everyone they could get to keep working if they had any hope of surviving another day.

Jerold, his family, and more than a thousand other souls were crammed aboard a ship originally designed to carry fifty. They had little choice when they were making their decision to flee from their homeworld, and had been forced to make do with what they could. The old freighter began falling apart after the first two weeks after they made a near blind jump through the warp. Jerold was an farming engineer and knew next to nothing about space travel, but from the muttered words he had caught from the few space trained individuals among the crew and refugees, they were lucky to survive even a single blind jump. The parels of the warp were numerous and almost all lethal in one way or another.

To Jerold, the thing that drove them from their home was worth the risk.

Jerold slowly rubbed his mouth with a small cloth he kept at his side. Only the thought of his wife and young daughter suffocating in the hold below kept him working through the pain on the life support system. Next to him, his lifelong friend Len took a step away from his own wall panel, lowering the face guard he was wearing to protect him from rogue sparks. He unclipped his water flask from his side, handing it to Jerold without a word. Jerold accepted it with a quick nod and downing some of the precious liquid. There was hardly any drinkable water left on the ship, and what little they had was given largely to the work crews, the rest dolled to the sick and young where it could. The work crews were the only thing keeping everyone alive, though the thought did not help Jerold much. The water liquid eased the burn in his throat, though the guilt in his mind imagining another child going without the same drink burned twice as badly in the back of his mind.

Just as Jerold handed the small container back to Len, a loud blaring horn echoed through the corridor he and the other thirty members of his work crew were in. At the same time, another group of equally weary looking men and women rounded the corner, patting the relieved workers on the back in case they could not hear over the work.

"Come on, lets go get some food before our next shift." His friends deep voice rattled Jerold out of his stupor as he nodded, removing the charge pack from his back and handing it and the stylus used to tweak and repair machinery at a near microscopic level to his replacement, before turning to catch up to Len. He had to take long strides to catch up to his massive friend, his sandy blonde hair almost touching the top of the dimly lit hallway, where as Jerold's dirty brown barely came to the mans shoulders. In the past, during better times Len had always poked fun at Jerold over the height and size difference between the two. Len had been a manual laborer within the shipping company of their small town, lifting the heavy crates and supplies that were shipped to the massive hive cities that dotted Tytos. His massive frame was covered in muscles that Jerold could only envy, his smaller wiry frame better suited to crawling through mechanical conduits to repair small devices that Len usually broke.

They passed a few other small groups of workers as they made their way into the largest hold on the ship, the silence of the corridors replaced instantly when the doors slid open to reveal hundreds of people crammed together in various packs throughout the hold. Everyone looked as tired as Jerold and the other workers, though as the workers came in they were greeted with smiles and warm voices. Some of the group broke off to go and mingle with their families after the first six hour shift of the day. Though, if one looked out one of the few windows spread throughout the ship, the concept of day and night felt rather arbitrary.

A small figure running through the crowds towards him brought a smile to his face despite his dour thoughts and the pain in his chest. He crouched down, bracing himself as his daughter Leana jumped into them, a fresh wash of pain passing through his body though he ignored it. He planted a brief kiss on her cheek before turning his body slightly, allowing Len to briefly rub his hand over her head. Len had no family of his own, not even before everything had gone to hell on Tytos. He more often than not had spent many a meal and night with Jerold and his family, and Leana looked up to him as an uncle.

"Papa, I caught a rat today!" His daughter's cheer brought a smile to Jerold's face, and Len complimented her masterful hunting skills as she retold the story in detail to him. With food at an all time low, the Captain of the ship had issued orders to the children of the refugees, though he referred to it more as a challenge to peak their interest. Rats and other small creature's infested some of the holds of the ship, things that would have been dealt with if they had more time in port before setting out. The children were challenged to catch them and bring them to the makeshift galley of the freighter, where they would receive a sweet treat for each one. While dangerous, it helped keep the children focused and occupied, and they seemed to enjoy the task. What the children did not know however was that every creature they found was quickly killed and cleaned to the cooks best abilities, and turned into the next meal of the refugees. It was not pleasant, but it had extended their food stores by nearly another month. The bites the children got were quickly treated as priorities by the few medical supplies they had, but their youthful enthusiasm and endless energy ensured they would not give up the 'game'.

Jerold was disgusted that he agreed it was necessary.

Before they could get in line for the food station, the entire freighter shook. Several people were thrown off their feet, and only the support of Len at his side kept Jerold upright. A second and third shake threw yet more people off their feet as Jerold stumbled to a nearby pile of crates, setting his daughter down on it carefully. Such turbulence was not uncommon in their exodus thus far. Last week, they had hit a particularly bad patch of solar wind that knocked power out across half the freighter and killed two people and wounded another fifty. This though felt different.

As everyone began to get back to their feet, their shouts of confusion and concern were cut short by the sound of screaming in the distance. Len looked about ready to go and help whoever had gotten hurt in the most recent turbulence when the sound of autogun fire erupted, followed by more screaming. Everyone around Jerold began to panic and run, stumbling over each other to make it towards the corridor leading away from the violence that was growing louder by the second. A single look at Len's pale bloodless face confirmed that he had come to the same conclusion Jerold had, and he turned to grab his daughter, setting off to flee with the others, hoping the find his wife but needing to make sure his daughter was safe first. He felt Len at his side a moment later, his friend staring behind him as they streamed through the corridor just as the lights cut out all at once, plunging them all into near total darkness. Over all the screaming, Jerold could still hear the utter terror in his friends voice as he whispered.

"They found us…"

* * *

The Thunderhawk shook as it fired it's descent engines as it approached the drifting hulk. Inside, Astelleon was finishing his squads briefing, their eyes watching silently as Astelleon pointed at the holographic image of the freighter hanging lifelessly in the void.

"We detected their distress signal a few days ago and while we got here as fast as we could, there is no telling how long it has actually been out here. The freighter as far as we can tell is without power. We have not been able to detect any life signs aboard the ship, though there are feint heat signatures spread throughout the vessel that suggest there are. Upon entry, we shall divide into two teams. My team will head towards the primary power generators and engine room towards the rear of the vessel, most of the heat signatures are gathered there and we may be able to bring power back online. The second team led by Scipio will head towards the bridge. If possible you shall restore power and control on your end. If not, download the ships logs and meet up with us in the engine room. Understood?" A quick chorus of affirmatives filled the hold as Astelleon nodded, deactivating the hologram just as the voice of the pilot called out over the speakers in the hold.

"Contact in thirty seconds. Decompression in forty." Without needing to be told the ten purple and gold armored figures reached down to the helmets maglocked to their hips, pulling them on and locking them in place. The primary landing bay of the freighter was sealed shut, but even if it was open it was not nearly large enough to hold the Thunderhawk. Augor scans before the mission had begun suggested the vessel was too fragile and beaten up to even survive the impact of a boarding torpedo, so a alternative was devised. The Thunderhawk came around the side of the freighter, lining up nose first with one of the airlocks of the freighter. The boarding ramp of the Thunderhawk lowered, and Astelleon gripped the overhead railing tighter as he felt the air rushing out of the ship around him as the hold decompressed, the cockpit sealed off by an airtight door to protect the mortal pilot's above. The ramp connected with the side of the vessel, and a long sheath of metal extended out from around the corners of the ramp, connecting with the top of the Thunderhawk above and forming a makeshift corridor. With a sudden snap hiss the metal connections locked together forming a new airtight corridor between the Thunderhawk and the the freighters airlock. Astelleon smiled beneath his helmet as he led his squad forward, pleasantly surprised it had worked. He had made the request to the Tech Priests aboard the Strike Cruiser _Dauntless Pride_ while they were preparing for departure. The technology had been used in the past, but the unorthodox nature of it had earned Astelleon some complaints from the Tech Priests even as they hurried to install it. He would need to make sure to apologize after the mission was over.

Astelleon lifted his bolter up to a ready position before nodding to one of his marines to open the door. All attempts to connect with the ships systems had failed, and so they had to do it the hard way. The marine brought up a cutting torch they had brought along from the _Dauntless Pride_, as they could not risk the makeshift corridor they had created in an explosive entry. In a few minutes they were through the locks of the airlock, and he marine put down the torch, pulling the large hatch, easily big enough for even fully armored Primaris marines to enter unhindered open. Astelleon was the first one to charge through the opening, his helmet visual adjusting instantly to the near total darkness on the other side of the hatch.

He wished it hadn't.

The corridor they entered was covered entirely in blood and various body parts and internal organs. Astelleon counted at least a dozen different bodies spread out along the length of the corridor, though only one of them had more than three limbs still attached to their body. One of the corpses was pinned to the wall of the corridor and it appeared as though the woman had been flayed alive. What little skin she still had hung loosely from her body, and she stared directly at Astelleon with empty eyes. She was one of the luckier ones.

As the rest of the squad filed into the freighter, they said nothing. They were too disciplined to voice their disgust at what they saw, but Astelleon could tell from their body language they were as horrified and enraged as he was. These people had not simply been killed. They had been tortured before the end. Whoever did this wanted to ensure their victims experienced as much agony as possible before they died. From his training and flash education, Astelleon knew of only one race that took such simple pleasure in torture and carnage such as what they were seeing.

"Continue the mission, but keep your eyes out for any Eldar scum. No prisoners." The barely controlled rage in his voice was matched by the wrath radiating from his men as they nodded, dividing into their predetermined teams as they spread out. There were still heat signatures on board this ship, so the possibility existed that a few people had survived the Dark Eldar assault. A quick scan by his armor indicated one of the bodies had died less than three days ago. There was still oxygen within the ship, though Astelleon feared it might already be too late.

They made their way carefully through the freighter, their weapons constantly at the ready as they searched through every small room they came across and checking each hallway and body they came across carefully. Despite the brutal and seemingly random nature of the carnage, Astelleon knew they could not move with haste. A severed limb carelessly tossed away by the Eldar might very well be covering a hidden explosive. A pool of blood in the middle of the corridor might contain an eviscerator trap waiting to spring when someone carelessly stepped into it. Some of the bodies showed signs of just such lethal traps.

Finally, they came to the primary hold of the ship, just a short distance away from the engine room. Here they found signs of an attempted resistance. Dozens of crates had been turned into makeshift bunkers, with several dozen corpses slumped over each, autoguns laying around them or in dead hands. These defenders showed no sign of torture the civilians of the ship had experienced thus far, likely killed by the Eldar in the moment so they could push through. Beyond the defensive line, the marines found hundreds of bodies. Most showed signs of torture as seen throughout the vessel, and for the first time they began to see the small forms of children. Not even they had been spared the fate of their parents.

Astelleon felt a fresh wave of hatred wash over him as they pushed forward without stopping. Their augors detected no life signs in the room, and no traps were immediately evident. It appeared as though the Eldar had gathered people in this room to make it easier to...enjoy them. Astelleon stepped over the lifeless body of a mother gripping her young son to her, though the boys body was cut down the middle, revealing his skeleton beneath.

Astelleon made a silent vow of the moment to hunt down and kill every Eldar he found for this.

Coming to the doors of the engine room, Astelleon and another marine shouldered the weapons and gripped either side of the barely open door, tearing the metal slabs from their connections in the wall and tossing them behind them, the other three members of their team rushing through the opening, their weapons sweeping the room as Astelleon and the other marine brought up the rear.

The engine room was dominated by four massive cylinders, the power generators, set in small indentations of the floor, with various walkways cut into the floor to get to the lower levels of the power generators while bridge like walkways webbed their way through above at various different elevations. Unlike every other room in the freighter they had come across, there were no signs of battle or slaughter in this room. A quick survey of the room showed no lifesigns, though the heat signatures indicated there was...something here.

Turning, Astelleon pointed to a nearby terminal, saying nothing as one of his men moved forward, his bolter locked to his back and easily drawable as he began to type into the terminal. After a few moments, the screen came to life, and the marine interfaced with the system, text appearing and vanishing from the screen faster than the mortal eye could see as the marine quickly moved through the various warnings that had been on the screen before it had lost power.

"Sergeant, the generators show no sign of external damage, though it will take at least a day for them to come back, and I would not wish to risk it without a Tech Priest here." Astelleon nodded his head in understanding, opening a vox channel to Scipio just as movement out of the corner of his eye drew his notice. At once he snapped around, the bolter in his hand tracking the motion as the other members of his team reacted. Two more came to stand near Astelleon, their weapons searching for the same target while the two remaining members of the team took up positions to the rear, searching for any potential flanking threat.

Astelleon spotted the movement again, watching it vanish beneath a walkway. A second flash of movement in a small vent set into the wall divided his attention a second alter"Movement underneath us, and in the walls itself. Possible survivors, though could be Eldar as well. Prepare to advance and greet them." Before the team could rush forward one of the marines at their back warned of a contact act their back. Astelleon spun quickly, just in time to call off his men as a middle aged adult man rushed into the room. His brown hair was caked with blood and things Astelleon did not want to imagine, and in his arms he held a young girl gripped tightly to him, her head shoved into his neck. He stood frozen for a moment as five bolter rifles locked on him, though he seemed less terrified by the five purple armored giants than by the thing that was chasing him. He rushed forward again, this time directly towards the marines, and Astelleon signaled for his men to let him through, quickly forming a firing line once the man and his daughter were behind them.

A moment later, a dozen Eldar warriors emerged from the corridor the two had been running down. Their black armor was coated in blood, some of it still glistening and fresh. In the hands of one of the warriors was the head of another adult male, this one with blonde hair, staring at nothing as the warrior dangled it in front of him. The smiles on their faces dropped the moment they spotted the marines. In an instant Astelleon realized the Eldar had been hunting the father and his daughter, though their slow jog indicating they had not been chasing them at their fastest speed. They were likely toying with the two before closing in for the kill. Astelleon and his men had brought their sick game to a gruesome end.

Without needing to say anything, the five marines opened fire the moment the Eldar came around the corner. The explosive bolt shells tore through the Eldar warriors with ease, their blood mixing with that of their victims blood in the hallway as they were cut down in surprise. In seconds they were all dead. Three marines rushed forward, combat blades drawn and at the ready as they checked for survivors, one of them stepping on the back of a mewling Eldar before viciously stabbing into it's exposed neck in a swift and lethal move. As his men secured the area, he turned to the father and his daughter, staring down at them for several seconds as they watched their tormentors get slaughtered with ease. Only when Astelleon reached up to remove his helmet did the father look up, his eyes still wide with fright as he looked upon the white hair and strong features present in all of Fulgrims sons.

"I am Sergeant Astelleon of the Phoenix Guard. In the name of the Emperor and Fulgrim, you are safe now."

They found fifty survivors in the engine room, mostly children and a few adults. Astelleon had ordered the team sent to the bridge to regroup with them, then established a defensive perimeter around the engine room. There were likely more Eldar on the ship, and now that they knew they were not alone, they would not be taken by surprise so easily. Astelleon led five of his marines out while the remaining four stayed back to guard the survivors, and give what medical treatment they could.

They found another half dozen Eldar throughout the ship as they pushed on, butchering them all without hesitation, and with a simple pleasure, before finally coming to the hangar bay. Sitting in the middle of it was the Eldar shuttle the raiders had come on. It was expertly landed to maximize space in the small hangar. A quick survey found the pilot's on board the ship waiting for the marines, though they were dispatched quickly as well. Once they were certain there were no other Eldar left on board the freighter, they went back to the engine room, gathering up the survivors and escorting them to the waiting Thunderhawk. Many of the survivors broke into tears the moment they stepped through the threshold into the Thunderhawk, the nightmare of what they had been through finally coming to an end as the ramp was raised and the ship disengaged. The co-pilot of the Thunderhawk, a full medic came rushing down the stairs carrying several emergency medical kits as Astelleon passed her, walking up into the cockpit.

He had the pilot open a vox channel to the _Dauntless Pride, _waiting a moment before the voice of Captain Tarthan responded on the other end. Before he could even ask for a report, Astelleon issued a single, simple order.

"Destroy that Nightmare."

* * *

Natalia walked quickly down one of the numerous hallways of the Inquisitorial outpost, her black and gold duster picking up behind her in her haste as she pushed past the servitors and Tech Priests that did not move out of her way fast enough. A few gave her annoyed looks though she paid them no mind. Her presence had been requested in the War Room, and she had little intention of being late because she stopped to apologize.

Though she would not do that even if she was not in a rush.

It had been nearly a month since the battle for the Tech City had ended in a costly but clear Imperial victory. Half the Tech City had been reduced to rubble in the fighting, with another quarter damaged to various degrees. Repair and reconstruction efforts were well underway by this point, but it was estimate it would take at least five years before the Tech City was back to it's former state. From what Natalia could tell though, she would not be here much longer for that to be an issue for her.

As she rounded another bend in the hallway, she almost ran into the Primaris marine standing guard there. They were scattered throughout the outpost at key positions to ensure security and safety of Fulgrim, an action that had taken three full days of debate to clear with the remaining Tech Priest command. The Phoenix Guard looked impressive, Natalia had to admit as she walked around the statue of ceramite and death. They still had the purple and gold trim armor they had when they first arrived, though they had begun to alter it slightly upon receiving their new name from Fulgrim. Wherever there was golden trim on their armor, small golden flames extended outward into the purple of the rest of the armor, giving the appearance that the gold lining was on fire, to an extent. It was a minor change from before, but Natalia thought it fit their new name better than the other armor design did.

Finally she came to the door of the War Room, wide open and flanked on either side by several members of the Phoenix Guard, armed with pike power weapons. These individuals had become the personal honor guard of Fulgrim, much as the old Phoenix Guard had been for the Primarch during the days of the Great Crusade. However, these warriors were known as the Phoenix Knights. The originality of the name, or lack thereof irked her slightly, but Fulgrim had enough on his plate at the moment.

She entered the War Room without stopping at the door, the Phoenix Knights having orders to not stop the Inquisitor. Inside, a handful of red robed Tech Priests moved about the various terminals and panels, inputting information or downloading it to take with them as they rushed out of the room to some other location. At the center of the chaos stood Fulgrim, his purple and gold armor, with the stylized flames like his sons along it's edges, though he also had a pure white cape over the left side of his body, his hand emerging every few moments to take a new datapad handed to him as he issued orders at a steady rate to those waiting nearby, including three officers in Imperial Navy uniforms, and another in an Imperial Guard uniform.

Upon his departure from the Tech City three weeks ago, Belisarius had given command of a majority of his fleet to Fulgrim and the Phoenix Guard. Most of the vessels had been made for them to begin with, including Battle Barges and Strike Cruisers, more than double the usual number for a loyalist chapter anywhere else in the Imperium. He had also seconded an entire Imperial Guard regiment, the five hundred and fourth Testamonian Assault Legion. That simple act had broken enough rules to give Natalia a migraine, but she had been forced to accept it in the moment. The Testamonians were a tough bunch of warriors, Natalia knew from experience. Hailing from the Death World of Testamon, the Imperial Guard regiments raised there had soldiers who grew up fighting various feral Ork tribes, regular xenos invasions, and scant resources with which to fight off either. The Assault Legions were well known for their guerrilla warfare tactics and close combat abilities. On top of this, they were an exceptionally loyal group. In their long history only three regiments had ever betrayed the Imperium, each one hunted down and eliminated by the new Assault Legion raised with their traitorous kins number.

As Natalia entered the room, Fulgrim briefly looked up, giving her a brief nod before waving off the servitors and Tech Priest around him. The others in the room came to stand around the holotable that had become the center of their world for the past month, planning and preparing for the Phoenix Guard and it's allied forces to finally leave the Tech City, and make their way out into the galaxy at large. Fulgrim was adamant that he would not sit idly by and wait for the next attack to come to the. There were countless worlds across the Imperium in need of aid, and he would not ignore them. Natalia was hesitant but agreed with the Primarch. His release had been undertaken with the intention of just such an action in mind, though now that they were finally at the threshold of it, she was nervous.

As Fulgrim looked at the assembled War Council, he gestured for a figure at the side of the room to come forward. Only then did Natalia see the man. He had been standing still at the far edge of the room, hidden in one of the natural areas of shadow between two banks of terminals. In an instant Natalia noted the bags under his, the hollowness of his face and indention his ribs made in his shirt, and the fresh bandages emerging from the sides of his open jacket. He glanced briefly to Fulgrim who gave him a brief, reassuring nod. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face the assembled War Council and spoke with shaky words.

"My name is Jerold Westing, and my world needs your help."

* * *

And here marks the end of what you could consider the first part of the story. From here we will begin to explore the wider Warhammer galaxy, and touch up on some greater connections and events. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and if you have any questions please leave a review. ArisenMoon signing off.


	8. Chapter 8

The _Augustus_ tore it's way through the veil between the Immaterium and real space, a plethora of colors unimaginable briefly consuming the darkness of the void around the ship as it emerged. The _Augustus_ was a massive Battle Barge, painted in a dark grey and white shades along its lengths. Banners of the Imperial Aquila draped along the side of the armored hull, with row upon row of weapon turrets interspersed between them. It hung in space for several seconds alone before more tears in reality erupted around it, disgorging a small fleet of vessels in similar coloration to the _Augustus_, though none were nearly as large.

Fulgrim watched from the bridge of the _Augustus_ as the small Phoenix Guard fleet fell into formation around the Battle Barge, three strike cruises securing the sides whilst escort craft took up positions forward and behind the vessel. In total there were only twelve vessels, barely a battle group in Fulgrims mind compared to other fleets in the Imperium, though he had to admit they were lucky to have this many. Before departing from their company, Belisarius Cawl had given over command of the ships to Fulgrim. They had originally been destined to replace losses to another Space Marine Chapter that had been locked in battle against an Ork WAAAGH, but the subsequent loss of the entire Chapter freed up the vessels.

The _Augustus_ had been renamed after the Chapter Master of the fallen Chapter, an act Belisarius had not understood when Fulgrim gave the order. Sentimentality, the Arch Magos had reasoned would not bring the fallen back. Fulgrim had countered that they would never come back, but forgetting them would be a dishonor to their memories. The debate had ended there, and the two groups parted ways.

Turning his head slightly, Fulgrim watched as the Captain of the _Augustus_, a small man named Sentus Olan barked orders across the bridge. The first time Fulgrim had met the man he had been confused. The Captain apparently had Squat ancestry, as he barely came up to Fulgrims knee when standing up right. How a man like that could have come to his position within the bias and segregating culture of the modern Imperium, Fulgrim did not know. However, the man had made it clear the moment Fulgrim stepped on to the bridge that it was his bridge and his crew. Fulgrim had been humored enough to agree with the man. He walked with an air of confidence and surety around the bridge, and Fulgrim could not help the anticipation he felt to see the man in action. Given their current location, said action was likely to happen sooner rather than later.

Following the testimony of Jerold Westing back at the Tech City, Fulgrim had ordered the full deployment of the Phoenix Guard and their supporting assets. These included a single regiment of Imperial Guardsmen drawn from the world of Testamon. Testamon was a world locked in an endless tide of war and destruction, with various Ork tribes and rogue Ogryn spread across the surface. The locals humans had little resources to fight either threat and so had adapted their own style of warfare to suit their needs. Relying on hit and run tactics and sabotage, the Testamonian Assault Corps were some of the best irregular infantry fighters in the Imperium. The Imperium ensured that the people of Testamon had just enough resources to survive, and in turn drew as many recruits from them as they could. As well as the Seventh Testamonian Assault Corp were two squads of Mechanicus Battle Automata, replacing the Dreadnoughts that would usually serve as the Phoenix Guards close range heavy support. As they were still such a young force, they had not taken the sort of casualties yet that would lead to the creation of Dreadnought units. In time though, Fulgrim was sadly certain that problem would be rectified.

All of them would be dedicated to the coming campaign, a war to save the people of Testamon from the Eldar. Fulgrim began to run the words of Jerold through his mind again, playing out the conversations between the collective leaders and visualizing what was to come in his mind.

The world of Tytos was an odd world, even by Imperial standards. The northern half of the planet was covered in hive cities, with a collective population numbering well into the billions. The southern half of the planet was full of lush farmland and huge mineral deposits. All of the food grown on the southern half made it's way to the north to feed the population there, along with the raw resources gathered in their mines. In turn, the north sold back finished goods to the people of the south, ensuring they could continue their work. It was a closed market system, but it had survived for several centuries with only sporadic contact with the rest of the Imperium due to its isolated nature. That isolation however made them prime targets for the Dark Eldar.

The heavy planetary laser silos and defense grids dotting the hive cities prevented the Dark Eldar fleet from raiding in the north. However, once the planets meager defense fleet had been annihilated, the Dark Eldar had been able to land in the south and begin their reign of terror. Planetary Defense Forces were dispatched from the north to help shore up the local militias in the south, with the initial overwhelming progress of the Dark Eldar finally being halted. A stalemate ensued, as the Dark Eldar had already captured thousands of civilians in the south, and the military forces of Tytos did not wish to risk creating any openings in their defense lines to attempt a rescue. The stalemate however had been broken by a seeming accident five months into the invasion. A PDF regiment guarding a small cluster of villages was redeployed to another area, believing the Dark Eldar were preparing to launch a full scale attack there. However that night, while the villages were waiting for a replacement force to arrive, the Eldar struck. By the time the militia arrived from the next town cluster over, everyone was gone. This initial loss began a series of similar events. Northern PDF troops would be redeployed, and that night another small group of towns would vanish. When southern leaders raised their concern of the matters with the northern officials, they had heard nothing back but silence.

One day, two years into the invasion Jerold's town watched in horror as their PDF forces departed for the north. Knowing their fate, they had packed up what belongings they could that day, and commandeered one of the freighters being used to ferry food and resources to the north, who still demanded their quotas from the south. They had fled the planet, and had been making their way towards Imperial space when their ship was attacked and crippled by a Dark Eldar patrol.

Fulgrim had initially been enraged by what he had heard. The Governor of the world and his officers, all from the north of Tytos had seemingly decided to begin abandoning those trapped in the south. Though further word from Jerold had indicated that the redeployed PDF forces were apparently actually engaging Dark Eldar assaults in their redeployed locations. Poor judgement and planning on the defenders part then, Fulgrim guessed, though he could not be certain. The Dark Eldars trap should only have been allowed to work once, and even PDF forces should have been able to adapt to the trick swiftly enough. Whatever the case, Fulgrim would need to look into the matter further. For now, he needed to simply focus on getting his forces down to the planet that was growing steadily larger in the viewscreen.

Tytos looked much as Fulgrim suspected it would, a lush green and blue paradise to the south with an ugly brown and grey north. Rarely could one see the true cost of Imperial and mankind's 'progress' displayed so starkly in comparison to the beauty of what once was. He had worked hard in Chemos to create a stable balance between the two, with careful planning and constant vigilance to ensure one did not supplant the other. Evidently the Imperium chose to go the simpler route.

Finally the ships entered augur range, and information came flooding back across the bridge. Tytos was located near the edge of the solar system, just barely inside the habitable ring of the system's star. It was a short journey to the jump point from Tytos, less than an hour. Any Imperial naval elements that had been in the system would have had very little warning of the sudden Dark Eldar attack. Their apparent slaughter made more sense to Fulgrim now. The still drifting hulks of ruined metal the remaining proof of such. However, at the moment Fulgrim was focusing on another issue, one that Inquisitor Natalia had seemingly just noticed as well. The Inquisitor had rarely left Fulgrims presence during their journey from the Tech City to Tytos. She rarely said anything, instead simply watching Fulgrim and those around him with accusatory eyes. Fulgrim had attempted to broach the question as to what was bothering her, but she had remained quiet. That silence was broken by her crisp question, asked more to the entire bridge than anyone in particular.

"Why is there only one of them?" Fulgrim glanced back up at the augur overlay of the planet, now showing a single red object over the southern hemisphere. Further scans showed it to be a Dark Eldar corsair ship, maintaining its position and distance at the very bottom of the planet. Fulgrim had spotted it as well, quickly surmising why the Eldar would only have one ship in orbit, but before he could speak the resonating baritone of Sentus cut across the bridge.

"While the primary defense weaponry against an orbital target for hive cities is their laser defense silos, they also maintain an array of missile defense systems. The laser grid had a defined firing range, but the missiles could be used to strike targets in orbit on the other side of the planet. However, the missiles are big and slow. Eldar vessels are notably faster and more maneuverable than our own ships. Firing a single missile against the enemy vessel would likely just see the Eldar evade it or shoot it down. Firing a volley might have greater chance of hitting the vessel, but it would be a costly depletion of a limited weapon. A single ship makes little difference in the grand strategic map here. The rest of their fleet is likely located at an anchorage they established or captured further in the system. The missiles are likely to be saved for any great appearances of multiple craft." Natalia grimaced at the Captains words, delivered with an air of simplicity that made it seem like the train of thought should be simple. The man was smart but not diplomatic. He would have to keep that in mind for future meetings.

"Captain, I do not believe our lance weaponry is as hindered as the planets defenders. I would like to see it disappear." Captain Olan nodded his head, beginning to issue orders across the bridge. As Fulgrim watched, the _Augustus_ angled away from the rest of the fleet formation, streaking towards the Dark Eldar corsair that even now was just beginning to pull up and make for the emptiness of space. Before it had made it more than a handful of kilometers, streaks of pure white light poured from the prow of the _Augustus_, tearing into the corsair vessel. Space around the ship seemed to distort and waver for a second as the ships void shields attempted to resist the onslaught. The second volley tore through the shielding left, and bore into the vessel itself. A series of explosions began to erupt along the length of the vessel, with the third and final volley of lance fire destroying what was left.

"Establish our own orbit over the nearest settlement cluster in the southern hemisphere. And try to contact the planetary Governor. They probably haven't seen any Imperial ships on two years, but they should have still attempted to contact us by now." As the Primarchs orders were echoed across the bridge, Fulgrim casually folded his arms across his chest, staring at the world of Tytos as it disappeared from view as the _Augustus_ reoriented itself. The other vessels in the fleet would be following the flagship into orbit of the world, with the strike cruises positioning themselves closest to the planet. When the time came for the Phoenix Guard to make planetfall, the drop pods aboard those strike cruisers would lead the way.

The Eldar vessel had been destroyed too easily. The vessel had not been able to maneuver due to being too close to the planet, something that should have been easily avoided if they had been keeping watch at the jump point. The lack of preparation on the Eldars part, and the lack of any transmissions from the planet, including a distress signal Fulgrim had been expecting added up to many unsolved questions. He had hoped that his first proper campaign in the name of his fathers Imperium would be straightforward.

He should have known better.

* * *

The Governor's Palace was alive with clerks and officials rushing down the brightly lit and richly decorated corridors, bumping into each other with barely a glance. The news of new vessels arriving in orbit had been unexpected, and the fact they were Imperial brought a fresh wave of energy and vigor to the formerly flagging Imperials. For two years they had stood alone against the seemingly endless assault of the Dark Eldar on their world. Now, perhaps finally there was a chance to restore their lives to what they once were.

The mood within the Governor's War Room was starkly different than that outside the doors. Pacing back and forth in his evening gown, the plump form of Governor Narius Ophilia dominated the front portion of the room, his wobbling bulk brushing against the large holotable in the center of the room with each pass. Three PDF generals stood on the other side of the table, their dark green and brown uniforms standing out against the bright gold and red robes of the Governor. They watched their Commander in Chief as he spoke quietly to himself, rubbing his meaty hands over each other as he continued to glance at the data streaming across the table.

"It's too soon. It's far too soon. Imperial reinforcements were not supposed to be here for another three years. Everything is at risk now. All of our plans will have to be rethought. This will cost us greatly…" The Governor continued to mutter to himself for several more seconds before turning to the assembled generals. "Send word to all our forces to hold their positions for now, and cease all deployment orders. We need to establish our positions…" The Governor's words cut off as one of the generals cleared his throat, typing a few commands into the holotable before the group.

"Governor, one of our regiments has already begun it's...redeployment. By the time we could get them to halt and reverse their advance, it will likely be too late."

* * *

The storm raged around the small town. Rain poured down in endless sheets across the wood and stone buildings that made up the town, with streaks of lightning erupting every few seconds to illuminate the world around them. None of the townspeople were outside however, for they knew what was coming. Their PDF regiment had departed earlier this morning to deal with an Eldar attack to the south of them, leaving the town protected by only a small militia. Those few brave individuals manned the hastily constructed barricades and trenches around the town. It would never be enough. It had not been enough for the other towns who had gone through what they were going to experience soon. An air of dread hung over the town as they stared out their windows, waiting for the inevitable sound of autogun fire to signal their coming doom.

Just after midnight, the first shots rang out. The weapon fire was drowned out by the sound of terror from within the buildings of the town. Soon however, a much louder sound began to drown out the autogun fire. Glancing out the windows of their homes, the people of the town watched as streak of fire tore through the storm cover above. Wherever they impacted the ground in and around the village, dirt was sent flying high into the air, and a brief flash of light illuminated the area around them. For the briefest of moments people were able to see the militia and Dark Eldar locked in brutal combat, with the Eldar seeming to slaughter the militia with gleeful ease.

The balance of power changed drastically as the objects lowered their ramps, and massive figures erupted from within. The weapons in their hands roared to life, each burst casting brief bursts of light. People watched as the purple armored giants tore their way through the Dark Eldar, the slaughterers becoming the slaughter in mere moments. Among the giants strode another figure, larger and broader than the rest of them. In his hand he wielded a massive sword, cutting left and right through the Dark Eldar with ease, each strike sending clusters of the xenos flying.

After what seemed like forever to the people of the town, the sound of combat began to die out, replaced only by the sound of the never ending storm. Slowly they began to emerge from their homes, watching with some hesitation as the armored giants began to walk into the town, their armor covered in blood that was even now being washed off by the rain. Some of the worry and hesitation left the people as the remaining members of the militia were helped into the town by the armored figures, some even being carried in their arms. All eyes turned to look at the leader of the group as he reached up and removed his helmet, revealing beautiful features and pure white hair.

"Be at ease, my friends. You are safe now. My name is Fulgrim, Primarch of the Phoenix Guard, and we have come to help."

* * *

Hello everyone, sorry for the delay in postings, had some work that came up that had to be done. Sorry again that this chapter is so short, but future chapter will be longer as the introduction phase is brought to an end and the proper campaign can fully begin. Please leave a review to let me know what I can do better for this story, and please let others know about this story. ArisenMoon signing off.


	9. Chapter 9

Commander Octavius, formerly the leader of the newly named Phoenix Guard, and now second in command under the reborn Primarch Fulgrim, was nervous. Well, nervous might not have been the right word. Anxious perhaps, anxious to get the work. The operation he had been given by Fulgrim would be his first independent command since he assumed command. He needed to accomplish his mission to the absolute best that he could, to prove his father's continued faith in him.

Spread out over the top of a long range of hills, Octavius and two hundred other Primaris marines of the Phoenix Guard sat atop humming bikes. Some of them had the purple and golden flame colors of the Phoenix Guard, still freshly painted, though a majority were still silver and black. They had not had time to paint them all yet. Originally they had not even deployed the bikes to Tytos in great numbers. In the time the Phoenix Guard had been on the world, they had been busy establishing defensive bastions around all the settlements they could. However, circumstances had changed.

Last night, another settlement had been hit by the Dark Eldar. The PDF troops there had held their ground this time, however, and it had reportedly been an intense engagement. Before reinforcements could arrive, the Dark Eldar had overrun the PDF and taken the settlements inhabitants. A large convoy of vehicles carrying the civilians had been spotted several kilometers away, and all attempts by the PDF to cut them off had ended in failure. By Octavius's own estimates, the convoy were making their way towards a large Dark Eldar prison complex they used as a base of operations. The xenos scum had several such locations spread out across the southern hemisphere of Tytos, each heavily guarded, and full of prisoners.

In one of the few communications that the Phoenix Guard had received from the planetary Governor, a man named Narius Ophilia had requested that the Phoenix Guard begin a campaign of orbital bombardment against the complexes. He reasoned that anyone inside those camps were likely dead already, or wishing they were and that it would be a mercy to end their suffering. Fulgrim had flatly refused, saying they could still be saved.

Octavius had not been as certain as his Lord, but he had not raised his doubts.

Instead, Fulgrim had ordered every available bike to be mustered on Tytos, and deployed to stop the convoy at any cost. Fulgrim himself was getting ready to travel north to meet with Narius himself, and so he had entrusted the mission to Octavius. He had gathered his men, and made a vow of the moment to not rest until the civilians were saved from the convoy. Those in the camps might be doomed, but the ones in the convoy still had a chance.

To his side, the augur began to light up, displaying several large fast moving vehicles approaching. Without having to issue any orders, Octavius and the two hundred Phoenix Guard began to mount up, slowly walking their bikes into assigned assault squads for the coming assault. The attack had been meticulously planned out in advance by Octavius, with the final product being approved by Fulgrim before he departed. Fifty bike mounted Primaris, including Octavius would launch over the hill first, armed with heavy lances and storm bolters locked to their bikes. Their objective was to wipe out the perimeter guards of the convoy, and create as much chaos among the rest of the Dark Eldar forces as they could. The second wave of bikes would than follow them over the hill, dividing into three platoons of fifty bikes and moving to surround the convoy from the other sides. Ideally Octavius would have spread his forces out around the region to better cover every angle, but only a single hill line was present in the location Octavius had chosen. The perfect location where the Dark Eldar were isolated from any potential aid. They would have to make do with what they could.

Gripping the lance in his hand, Octavius turned and lifted it into the air, signalling to the other warriors around him. "For the Emperor! For the Imperium! For Fulgrim!" An echoing chorus of cheers erupted from the Primaris marines, and Octavius led the first wave over the hill.

Octavius felt the bike leave the ground as he gunned it over the top of the hill. He felt a moment of weightlessness as the bike shot over the top of the hill and hung in the air, before plummeting down and slamming into the grass covered hill. The sound of the other bikes landing behind Octavius was quickly drowned out by the roar of the engines as the bikes shot down the grass covered hill. At the bottom of the hill, the Dark Eldar convoy was just beginning to move to counter the charge. The center of the convoy was dominated by four massive hovering vehicles, all colored a dark black and purple. The center of the vehicle had dozens of cages on it, with dozens of people in each one. Many of them were jumping to their feet as the purple clad warriors thundered towards them, hope returning to their eyes. Spread out around the carriers were dozens of smaller craft. A few Ravager heavy vehicles were close around the prison barges, whilst small Raider craft were beginning to come around from the spread out defense perimeter. Both of these vehicles looked like ancient seafaring ships from old Earth, with a sail rising from the center of the craft but angling parallel with it, and needle points extending from the corners. Spread out among them were many more Venom vehicles, smaller hovercraft with Dark Eldar warriors hanging from the sides.

Just as the first of the Venom craft were turning to face the attack force, and the forward weapons of the Ravagers and Raiders began to open up, the Phoenix Guard collided with them. Storm bolter fire tore into the lightly armored Dark Eldar vehicles, several of them collapsing to the ground as their anti-grav thrusters were knocked out while others were destroyed in their entirety, small infernos erupting as the Primaris bike force rushed through the holes opened in their lines.

Octavius leveled the lance in his hand, making eye contact with the pilot of one of the Raiders that had begun to break away from the expanding battle, it's weapon turret firing into another charging Primaris marine. Octavius watched in rage as the cannon tore into the exposed marine, blood blossoming out as he fell off the bike. Octavius wheeled the bike around as the turret gunner turned to face him, the rapid fire ammunition trailing after him as he slammed his left foot into the ground. The impact and quick withdrawal of the foot pivoted the bike, sending Octavius charging straight at the Raider as the turret fired where he would have been a second before. Rather than target on of the passengers in the craft, each armed with a rifle firing from the railing along the Raider, Octavius punctured the side of the vehicle with the lance before letting it go and wheeling off. Three seconds after Octavius's hand left the lance, the charges planted within it detonated, taking the Raider and it's passengers with it.

Octavius turned the bike to come around the front of one of the prison barges, firing the storm bolters on the front of his bike just as a Venom shot passed him chasing down another marine. The heavy bolt rounds tore along the length of the Venom, tearing one of the side gunners in half before destroying the vehicle itself. In the same motion, Octavius drew the power sword hanging from the side of the bike. Holding it up in his left hand, Octavius slashed it through a Dark Eldar corsair that had survived the destruction of his burning vehicle nearby. The power sword cut the Dark Eldar warrior in half, Octavius throttling past as the two halves of the corsair collapsed to the ground.

The first wave continued their attack up and down the convoy, slowly but surely beginning to overwhelm the Dark Eldar forces. Octavius kept track of the life signs of all the members of the strike force, watching with growing rage as the casualties began to mount. They were winning for now, but soon enough they would not have the numbers to carry the fight further.

Octavius sent a quick series of vox clicks to the remaining warriors beyond the ridge, turning his head for a moment to watch as they too shot over the hill and began to advance on the convoy. Several outlining Dark Eldar Venom broke away from the battle still raging around the prison barges, rushing up the hill the meet the large second wave assault. They were quickly dispatched with concentrated storm bolter fire from the leading squads in the charge, the bikes jumping over the burning wrecks as the few survivors were either gunned down or run over.

As Venom craft began to take to the air to counter the assault, several land speeders shot over the top of the hill, tearing into the corsair vehicles before they could begin to secure aerial superiority. Octavius had only been able to secure three of the highly prized vehicles for this assault, but their covering fire of the second waves advance was proving invaluable.

Just before impact the majority of the advancing bike squads broke away from their forward charge, while a few dozen continued onward to join the mobile melee. The remaining forces swung around the outermost edges of the battle, with two groups then plunging into the battle as well, while the third continued around before moving in to close the circle. The already weakened Dark Eldar forces were crippled by the three pronged second wave attack, with a majority of the Ravager and Raider units still left torn apart by concentrated storm bolter fire or explosive lances. The majority of the battle now devolved into fast moving duels between bike marines and Venom units swirling around the prison barges, sending up dirt and blood in equal measure as the bike tore across the grassy plain.

Octavius turned his attention to the last heavy remaining bastion of resistance, the prison barges themselves. Along the upper railing of the barges, several corsairs fired down at the Phoenix Guard forces as the slow moving barges attempted to escape. Angling his bike around, Octavius charged the lead most barge straight on, coming within two meters before he pushed away from the bike, hurling himself at the barge. His right hand gripped the bars of one of the cells, and he spared a brief glance at the face of a terrified young girl within. Octavius spared her the briefest nod, hoping to reassure him before he began to pull himself up the side of the cell.

He got to the top of the barge, stabbing the power sword in his left hand into the side of a corsair manning a turret on top of the platform that served as the roof of the cell. The Dark Eldar let out a surprised cry of pain as Octavius pulled his sword back, watching as the body fell down. Pulling himself over the side, Octavius immediately threw himself into a roll as another corsair launched at him wielding two curved swords. Octavius came out of the roll and brought the power sword up on reflex, blocking to two follow up attacks from the corsair. He smacked aside the warriors next strikes with the side of his sword, drawing the bolt pistol at his side and firing two quick shots into the exposed corsairs chest. The remnants of the body were sent flying backwards from the close range fire, and Octavius turned to face the next two corsair charging him.

Up and down the various prison barges, other Phoenix Guard marines were following Octavius's lead, boarding the vehicles and dueling with the crew above. It was quick and brutal combat, with the speed and ferocity of the Dark Eldar matched by the efficiency and coordination of the Primaris. Two more marines climbed up on the lead barge beside Octavius, covering his back as he rushed towards the front of the vehicle. Octavius jumped over the front of the craft, twisting in the air and coming down hard on the cockpit of the vehicle. The Dark Eldar sitting in the command seat jumped back in shock a moment before Octavius leveled his pistol and fired three shots into pilot.

The prison barge began to slow down, coming to a halt several meters ahead. Octavius jumped off the side of the barge, landing heavily on the ground and bringing his weapons up to fight, but lowered them again as he took in the scene. Primaris bikes controlled the field now, with the few isolated Venom vehicles being chased down by small packs of bikes. The other prison barges were also coming to a halt in a ragged line behind the first, with the Phoenix Guard who had boarded them climbing down and breaking open the cages. The people within were understandably terrified by what they had just seen. Octavius sent word to the last remaining part of the assault force to make their presence known. Over the top of the hill larger tracked vehicles began to come over the top. They were not tactical vehicles, rather they were heavy cargo haulers used by the farming and mining settlements in the southern hemisphere of Tytos to carry their cargo long distances. Octavius had secured several of the five meter by twenty meter vehicles to come and retrieve the prisoners. As the trucks came to a halt near the prison barges, the doors opened and civilians from the town nearest the prisoners began to emerge. Contact between the two settlements was frequent as they traded between each other, and when the prisoners saw them they finally began to climb out of the cages.

Octavius turned away from the scene, opening a vox channel to the _Augustus_ in orbit. "Captain Olan, please relay this transmission to Fulgrim. We have accomplished our mission, and are preparing to return with the prisoners to our territory. We will begin preparations for the next phase."

* * *

The hive city of Lyrica was exactly as Fulgrim had expected it would be. Layer upon layer of structures built on one another over the centuries. The lowest levels of the hive city had sunk down into the ground, while the gleaming and massive spires of the nobility rose high above the smog and refuse of the lower levels. Fulgrim detested hive cities immensely. They were crude constructions, where the rich were able to so easily prey on the poor. Social advancement was unheard of, and justice was afforded to those that could afford it.

However, even Fulgrim had to admit hive cities were useful to the wider Imperium. Few worlds could produce the sheer amount of products that a hive world could. Only Forge Worlds could truly be said to out produce hive worlds, and even then hive worlds made up for such a failing by the sheer number of Imperial Guard regiments they could produce from what Fulgrim understood.

Chemos had once had similar things. They had been forge cities, smaller than hive cities but serving much the same function. They had been as ugly and barbaric as those on Tytos until Fulgrim had come to power. He had overseen a massive reconstruction endeavor, turning the ugly and ruined buildings into beautiful living plazas. Run down and trash filled junctions had become pleasant gardens. For all Fulgrim changed, the productivity of Chemos did not falter. In fact, it increased exponentially, allowing for the people of Fulgrims homeworld to turn away from the endless cycle of working to simply survive. Art and culture and flourished on Chemos for the first time in centuries.

It was all gone now, of course. When the Horus Heresy, an odd name for a civil war, came to an end the Imperium lashed out harshly against all those who stood with the traitor forces. By Fulgrims own hands Chemos had been cursed, though not entirely on his own. He could not quite pin the moment he realized he had fallen to Chaos so long ago, but he distinctly remembered hearing the death throes of Chemos while he was trapped in the painting. Even more haunting was the sound of laughter, his own but not _him._

Fulgrim tried not to dwell too long on the subject. He instead turned his attention back to the world around him. He stood on a landing platform of the Governors Spire, with the ten members of the Phoenix Knights standing at regular intervals around the perimeter. Their purple and golden flame armor gleamed in the setting sun of Tytos, and their white cloaks billowed in the wind currents ever constant this high above the ground. Their helms, much likes Fulgrims own were not in the general shape of most Primaris marine helmets. Instead they were a mixture of ancient design and modern technology. The more knight like appearance of the old mark three era helmet had been rebuilt with modern technology taken from other Primaris helmets, creating an overall more striking look for the Phoenix Knights.

Fulgrims own armor was similar to theirs, though his own cloak was a bright golden color, and his helmet was entirely custom crafted, a necessity given Fulgrims larger stature compared to his warriors. The helmet did not have a 'grill' in front as the Phoenix Knights did, instead it was an entirely smooth surface that angled into a single sharp angle down the center of the helmet. It was remarkably undecorated compared to what his old armor had once been, but Fulgrim thought that was for the best. Excess was a dangerous pleasure to give in to, even if it was simply directed towards aesthetic looks. Fulgrim realized some of the irony there, enjoying the looks of his warriors own armor while refraining from decorating his own, but he would stand by it. At least for now.

Stepping up to the edge of the platform, Fulgrim glanced over the side briefly, appearing to take in the sprawling and smog covered lower levels far below the spires. In reality he was watching a small group of black clad warriors scaling down the side of the Governors Spire. Their full body armor with an augur reflective coating were minuscule shapes on the side of the Spire, and Fulgrim suspected they would be difficult to see until they were very close to the ground. Fulgrim did not raise the alarm however, as the men in question were doing this on his instructions.

Before heading towards Lyrica, Fulgrim had secured a single squad of Testamonian guardsmen, one of the very best according to their Colonel. Just as the thunderhawk had landed on the Spires landing platform, it had released a massive jet of steam that briefly covered the entire platform. The pilot had informed the flight control that it was a minor malfunction with the landing equipment. A false story for certain given how new the vessel was, but a story the control believed long enough for the Testamonians to make their escape from the ship unseen and begin their descent. It was a long way down to the lower levels of the hive, but the sergeant had assured Fulgrim that they would get it done.

Subterfuge and guile were not his favorite methods of information gathering, but sometimes it was necessary. He needed to get the full story of what was happening in Lyrica, and across Tytos in general, and no one spread gossip like a drunken factory worker.

Granted, they might not have been able to even begin their mission if the Governor had been present for their arrival. They had been waiting on the platform for almost an hour now, and Fulgrim was starting to become truly irritated. He suspected it was a power play by the Governor, an attempt to show his guests that he was still in charge of Tytos. Fulgrim had little interest in challenging the man's position, but every second wasted here was a second lost fighting the Dark Eldar across Tytos. Lives were being lost for every minute the Governor delayed.

Finally Fulgrim had enough. Just as the clock in his helmet clicked the one hour mark, he suddenly turned from where he stood, marching towards the massive ornate doors leading into the Spire. A dozen household guards wearing the white and green uniforms of the Governor stood at the entrance, their forms dwarfed by the massive door they stood before. The massive Aquila cast a lengthening shadow across the platform as Fulgrim approached, each member of the Phoenix Knights falling into step behind their father. The warpikes in their hands slammed against the ground with every step they took, with the captain of the guards seeming to flinch with every impact.

The procession came to a halt just before the doors, the guards taking a step back as the Phoenix Knights spread out to either side of Fulgrim, forming a single line behind him and staring down the guards before them. The small pistols they had holstered at their sides would be less than useless against the power armor of the Phoenix Knights, and the grim looks across the men's faces told Fulgrim they knew it.

"Open the door."

The simple statement from Fulgrim shocked the captain out of his frozen state. He drew his shoulders back, staring up at Fulgrim as he folded his hands behind his back. "My Lord...The Governor is not ready to meet with you. Matters of state and the defense require his attention. He assures you that the moment he has time that he will…" The silence he received from Fulgrim silenced the man, his words coming out in a rushed stutter.

"If I were to wait for him to be ready for me, I would be here for days. Whether he is ready for our presence or not matters little to me. I am ready for his presence. So I say one last time. Open. The. Door." The second statement from Fulgrim was accented by a unison of warpikes slamming into the ground from the Phoenix Knights. The captain glanced nervously at the other guards around him before finally nodding his head. He brought his left wrist up, tapping a command on the small device on the cuff of his wrist and speaking a quick command to open the door.

With a sudden loud echo the locks on the door disengaged, and began to slowly grind open. The corridor beyond the entrance was richly decorated with a standard Imperial architecture design. Large pillars lined the wall leading further in the Spire, and Fulgrim could see several large opening spread out along the hall, leading into various different sections. At the end of the corridor a massive marble staircase led up to the next floor of the Spire, with another beyond that leading further up. Fulgrim nodded his head briefly to the captain before he stepped forward, walking down the bright red carpet towards the staircase in the distance. The Phoenix Knights moved in unison to follow Fulgrim, pushing their way past the still stunned guards.

As the doors began to close behind the Phoenix Guard forces, the captain typed in a new command on his wrist. He opened a direct channel to the commander of the household guard, who at this moment would be with the Governor. "Sir, I regret to inform you that the space marines are inside the Spire. They are on their way to you…"

Honolos Ophilia, son of Narius Ophilia and future Governor of Tytos was trying to pretend he did not exist right now. He sat beside his father at a large table covered in every manner of food imaginable. Hundreds of other nobles and officials loyal to his father were there as well, their brightly colored clothing matching so well with the rich decorations of the Grand Hall. Behind his father was the main dais of the hall, the center of power for all of Tytos and where he was supposed to hold court to handle matters of state importance. Instead, they were feasting.

Again.

Honolos had begged his father to focus his attention on the matter of defending the planet, what they were actually supposed to be doing, but he had simply waved his son off. 'The menials are taking care of that matter son. You need not worry about it.' The words had stung then in Honolos's mind, and even more now as he watched the collective leadership of Tytos feast while the people of the south starved. Much of the food here had been brought in from one of the settlements that had apparently been abandoned by the locals there. The first time Honolos had heard that information he had been shocked. His father informed him that the farmers and miners of the south were simply getting up and leaving their homes, fleeing away from the fighting while the PDF troops held the line. Honolos had no reason to doubt his father's words, and without evidence to the contrary there was little he could say. But the sheer amount of settlements being abandoned was suspect in Honolos's mind.

The sound of running footsteps outside the Grand Hall drew Honolos's attention away from the feast, and he looked up just in time to see several of his family's household guards rush towards the entrance of the hall. Just as they got to the doors they were flung open, sending the guards sprawling to the floor on either side of the entrance. The collective gasps of the nobility filled the room as they turned to the commotion, and Honolos saw his father launch to his feet. Even after he stopped his move the rest of his body remaining in motion. It was very different from Honolos's own figure as he thought about it.

"What is the meaning of this outr…" His fathers were cut short as the intruders of the Grand Hall slowly entered. The color drained from the faces of many nobles in the room as the armored bulk of space marines entered the room. Ten warriors in purple and golden armor spread out around the room, securing positions at regular intervals as they scanned the room for threats. One of the guards, still disoriented from being thrown away from the door reached for the pistol at his side. Before it could even leave it's holster one of the space marines stepped forward, flicking the massive pike in his hand up and striking the man over the head with the end of it. The guards collapsed back to the ground, a red welt evident even from where Honolos stood.

The last marine in the procession was larger than the others, standing nearly a head taller than the others. Unlike his escort the leader of this group did not openly carry a weapon in his hands, though the massive chainsword dangling from his hip could not be ignored. The warrior stood still for several seconds, staring down at the mass of nobles. Even with his helmet on, Honolos could feel the pure contempt and disgust radiating from the figure, so strong that he could physically feel it. He had to put his hand on his chair to steady himself, though others were not as lucky. Honolos saw several nobles and officials simply collapse where they stood, slumping to the ground or hitting the table.

Finally the figure began to walk towards them, his left hand resting on the hilt of the weapon at his side. The cloak he wore around his shoulders trailed behind him as he approached the table. He glanced down at the food and drinks spread out across it's surface, even reaching down to lift a small fruit that could only be found in a single isolated region of the south. He turned it in his hand, the fruit seeming comically small in his grasp before he placed it back down carefully. He continued his pace then, approaching where Honolos's father still stood.

"Narius Ophilia I assume? It is an honor to finally be graced with your presence." The salute the warrior gave Honolos's father was mocking in it's form. The words brought a flush of red color to his father's face, replacing the ghostly pale that had been there a moment before. His father hated it when people did not use his proper title, an insult against his honor and his family as he saw it. The rage he felt overpowered the fear he felt as he stared up at the massive figure.

"That is Governor Ophilia, my rightly bestowed title and rank upheld by right of the Adeptus Administratum and my families service of loyalty to the Imperium dating back five thousand years…" Honolos's father came to an abrupt halt in his declaration, enraged even further by the warrior before him turning his attention away from him as if he was bored with the obese man. Honolos thought it for the best. His father was already risking much by the insult he had given the space marines by making them wait outside for so long. Honolos had urged his father to reconsider, but he had been adamant that he establish who was in charge on Tytos. It would seem the tables were beginning to turn.

The leader of the space marines was now staring up at the throne sitting on top of the dais. It was raised ten meters above the ground level of the Grand Hall, allowing the Governor to look down on all those who entered from a clear position of power. Compared to the rest of the Grand Hall and Governors Spire in general it was starkly designed. It was more functional than it was anything else. In the early days of the Ophilia families rule on Tytos it had been on ground level, at the head of a large table where the Governor would rule beside his advisers and generals. At some point all that had changed.

The space marine began to walk up the steps of the dais, coming to a halt just beside the throne. He ran his left hand across it for a moment before finally turning to look down at those nobles and officials still standing.

"You are the leaders of Tytos. Whether by birth or by election you have been charged with defending this planet in the name of the Imperium. You are supposed to be the vanguard of what it means to be an Imperial citizen. Loyal, just, and willing to fight to protect those you are supposed to care for and rule. Instead, I find you here. Feasting when you should be leading. Relaxing when you should be fighting. Betraying everything the Imperium was built to stand for." The warrior than turned his attention solely to Narius, the fury within evident beneath the featureless helmet.

"And you, _Governor _Ophilia. I was told you were busy with state matters. I could live with being made to wait if it truly was as was said and you were dealing with matters pertaining to the greater good of Tytos. Instead I find you here, devouring food taken from those you have abandoned to fates worse than death in the south." He turned, looking at the throne fully.

"You think yourself the Emperor of this world? You are nothing!" In a flash of motion the figure drew the chainsword from his side, the roaring sound of the engine erupting to life in the silence of the Grand Hall as it tore into the stone. Metal screamed in agony as the weapon destroyed the throne, sending debris flying in every direction. Honolos had to duck his head down as a large chunk of the throne flew past him, colliding into the table and sending food and drinks flying out. Several nobles and officials did not even notice the stains appearing on their clothing from the destruction. Everyone in the room was captivated by the unleashed rage of the warrior before them.

Finally, the pure clad giant turned his attention away from the ruins of the throne, locking eyes with Honolos's father again as he began to descend down the dais. The chainsword in his hand still roared with power as he approached, and Honolos watched as his father stumbled backwards in fear, falling back onto the table and pushing himself backwards through the mess. Just as the warrior drew close enough to strike at his father, Honolos stepped forward between them. He did not love his father, but he still felt the need to protect him. He questioned whether it was a good idea as the warrior stopped before him, and for a brief instant Honolos saw the chainsword flick forward, and he closed his eyes waiting for the burning pain of death.

Several seconds passed before he opened his eyes again, looking up into the still form of the space marine. The chainsword was still held in his hand, but the blades no longer roared for blood. The figure shook his head, taking a hesitant step backwards on his own as he glanced down at the weapon in his hand. After a moment's hesitation he clipped it back to his hip, before turning his attention back to the now crying Narius and shocked Honolos.

"You are brave, boy. I assume that is your father?" Honolos found himself nodding without realizing it. The figure before him nodded himself, before glancing past Honolos at Narius. "Narius Ophilia, Governor of Tytos. I hereby declare your titles and privileges taken. In the name of the Emperor I denounce you and arrest you for negligence of duty and treason against the Imperium." At his words two of the other space marines in the room moved from their posts, marching towards Narius.

Honolos watched his father try and push himself to his feet only to slip on a stray plate and collapse back in a heep of ruined cloth and blubber on the table. A moment later the two space marines were there, grabbing him and dragging him off the table between them. Nearby, one of the generals of the PDF, Arios Jura rose to his feet. He had come to power entirely thanks to Honolos's fathers patronage, and some twisted sense of loyalty brought the corrupt official to his feet.

"You cannot do this! He is the rightful ruler of this planet, you have no right!" As he spoke he drew a laspistol from within a fold in his robes, aiming it in the heat of the moment and a rush of adrenaline at the warrior standing at the head of the table. He never got to pull the trigger as across the room, Honolos watched as another of the space marines suddenly moved, flipping the pike in his hand and throwing it through the air. A moment later General Jura was torn from his feet as the pike slammed into him. The man flew across the room before finally coming to a rest on the ground, the massive pike jutting up from his corpse. Blood began to pool around the still twitching body as all eyes turned back to the warrior at the head of the table, who reached up and began to remove his helmet.

He placed it on the table in front of him, his perfectly sculpted features an exact opposite of the act of thoughtless violence that had just been committed to protect him. He looked around at all those gathered in the room, locking eyes with many of them for a few seconds before finally resting on Honolos.

"My name is Fulgrim, Lord of the Phoenix Guard and son of the Emperor of Mankind. In the name of my father I have every right to do what is needed to protect the Imperium, and Tytos is part of the Imperium no matter what you would all like to think. Now, all of you get out. There is a war to fight and all of you are nothing but useless to what must be done." In a rush the nobles and officials began streaming out of the Grand Hall, helping those that had fallen unconscious. They kept a wide berth of the fallen Arios as they left the room. Just before Honolos himself could leave the room, the two space marines at the entrance to the Grand Hall crossed their pikes across his path, baring his escape.

Honolos turned around to see the leader of the Phoenix Guard, Fulgrim staring at him from where he stood by the table. "Not you. I have a feeling you will be useful for what is to come."

* * *

And here is the next chapter of the developing Tytos Campaign. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, as I have begun to dislike the name Phoenix Knights for Fulgrims personal guard, I am opening up a sort of poll. If you have any suggestions please leave a review below as to what you think the Phoenix Knights should be renamed, or if they should stay as they are.

Please like and follow this story to see where it goes. ArisenMoon signing off.


	10. Chapter 10

Natalia stepped over the body, the mans features contorted in agony as he lay in the shadows of the alley. He was not the only one. Natalia had gotten to the hive city of Lyrica days ago, and in that time she had seen nothing but filth, death, and decay everywhere she went. Granted, such things were not uncommon in hive cities, especially in war time. From the situation on Tytos, it was clear that the stable food supply had been distributed by the Dark Eldar in the south, and the people in the lower levels of the great cities were the ones suffering.

She did not feel a dire need to try and help them. Food was saved for the leadership and military forces on a world at war, and the non-combat essentials were expendable. It was brutal, but necessary. However, the sheer amount of filth and refuse Natalia had encountered so far in her exploration was beyond what she would consider standard. She had her suspicions, but she needed more information before she could act.

Upon arriving to Tytos, Natalia had departed on her own to Lyrica ahead of the other Phoenix Guard and allied forces. She was an Inquisitor, not a front line soldiers and her talents would be put to better use elsewhere. She had not told Fulgrim of this decision before she left, but once again she was an Inquisitor. Her actions were her own and above the scrutiny of others.

Even if those others included the reborn son of the Emperor.

Part of her decision to head out on her own was the need to distance herself from Fulgrim. She needed to clear her head and focus on what she needed to do, something she could not do easily in his presence. The sheer dominating charisma of a Primarch was difficult to deal with. She had been trained to resist daemonic intrusions, torture and all manners of persuasion and subversion. But his aura was something else entirely. She needed to regroup, and this little excursion would be the start of that.

She had wanted to investigate the leadership of Tytos the moment she heard of what was going on. The negligence of the commanders and Governor here alone warranted her attention, but the moment she had landed something had begun to bother her. A tugging in her gut that something was going on that she could not see. She had felt it even back on the Tech World upon hearing the story of Tytos from Jerold. This feeling, and the issue of Fulgrim had led her to sending a brief communication to her superior within the Ordo Malleus before they arrived on Tytos.

She had spent two days within the Governors Spire and other noble homes, investigating their records and dealings. At first glance it looked much as she expected. Corrupt business deals, wanton abuse of authority and numerous other charges that if she was in a bad mood she could string them up on. However as long as Tytos continued to provide it's tithe to the Imperium, Natalia and the Imperium at large did not care how this world was run.

What did interest her however were several periods of blank time put in the records of various noble families, several of them lining up. Again, not technically a matter of great concern, nobles often attended events that even they did not want to be publicly seen by others of their cast. These were often infrequent and small gatherings. But if the records were to be believed, hundreds of nobles and their families were meeting in secret several times a month. Natalia had several theories, the least damning one being the nobility were planning to secede from the Imperium. Given the isolation of Tytos they might even succeed for a few centuries. All evidence pointed to this possibility, but Natalia was not one to go with the easy option.

She had planned to attend one of these parties, scheduled for today when Fulgrim had made his move nearly a week ago. He arrested the Governor in public view of all the others in attendance, and sent them running in terror. Any investigation she could have launched for these parties were now permanently delayed. The nobility would be covering their tracks more carefully now, and increasing security. Natalia had been forced to descend to the lower levels of Lyrica to avoid detection.

The situation was getting out of hand, with the Dark Eldar themselves quickly becoming a minor concern.

Natalia stepped past a small family sitting out in front of a hab block. They glanced up at Natalia as she passed, her Inquisitorial robes standing out to their browns and grey. She was not concerned about them notifying anyone of her presence. The very reason she was in this part of the hive city also secured her secrecy.

At some point in the past, the Ordo Hereticus had established a small watch post on Tytos. They had not been concerned of any threat on the world at the time, and in fact were using the world due to it's isolation as a holding and interrogation site. In theory there would be a small group of Inquisitors on the world to man the watch post. Natalia hoped they would have more information on the situation at hand. Their presence in this part of the hive city was common sight and not a cause of alarm.

Turning the corner, Natalia halted in her tracks as she spotted the watch post. It used to be a processing center, and still was on paper. The sound of machinery inside was effective at muting the screaming of it's guests. The front of the building as such looked no different than when the Inquisition took custody of it centuries ago. Despite it's looks however, the watch post had been upgraded with enough security to turn back a small army.

Which is why Natalia was so surprised to see the door wide open.

* * *

She drew the bolt pistol at her his in an instant and advanced cautiously towards the door. As she drew closer the strong stench of blood struck Natalia all at once, mixed in with the smell of rotting flesh. Whatever had happened here was not a recent event. She wondered why there weren't more people on the scene. Perhaps the Inquisitors reputation in this part of the city was more prominent than she had believed.

Gripping the bolt pistol tighter, Natalia slipped into the open threshold of the watch post and plunged into the darkness within.

Astelleon stood impassively on top of the short hill. The other members of his squad were spread out to either side of him in a ragged combat line, their eyes constantly scanning the horizon in all directions. A few dozen meters to the left and right were two more squads, and beyond them a few more squads. In total an entire company had been deployed in a single, elongated semi circle around a large stretch of farmland.

One of the settlements protected by the Phoenix Guard had begun to run low on supplies a few days ago. Originally it was planned to simply distribute supplies among the settlements until a better solution could be devised, but the Testamonians had a different idea. With a plan put forward, the settlement had been allowed to send it's people back into their farmlands to harvest what food they could. Astelleon and the rest of the fourth company had been deployed for this operation, though they were not the primary combat unit. For once, Astelleon and his brothers were the reserves.

Astelleon turned his attention away from the farmers in the field as vox chatter began to pick up. He turned to face the massive forest that started one hundred meters away from the hill and spread out in every direction. It was the primary reason Commander Octavius had wanted to simply distribute supplies rather than attempt to harvest here. The sheer amount of foliage would provide any advancing Dark Eldar corsairs the perfect chance to ambush any of the farmers or Primaris squads.

"Three targets, fifty meters away from the edge of the forest. Permission to engage?" Astelleon turned to the marine next to him who had just spoken over the vox, shaking his head quickly. The assembled warriors lowered their bolters, though Astelleon could see their unease in the action. Not attacking a foe so close to them drove their combat instincts into a frenzy, demanding action that they had to reign in. Astelleon wanted to engage the corsairs himself, but he held himself back.

It would be a waste of ammunition anyway.

Astelleon quickly located the advancing corsairs, their black and silver armor blending in to the shadows of the trees. They were moving forward in a slow crouch, their long rifles held close to their chests. Just before they entered the extreme range of what Astelleon would consider hazardous, he caught a brief flash of movement. One of the corsairs suddenly vanished into a nearby patch of trees. The other two turned quickly to face the new threat, only for one of them to jerk back as another black armored figure stepped out from behind a tree, slamming the butt of their rifle directly into the corsairs helmet. Before the last Eldar could raise his rifle to fire, another shadowy figure dropped down from the trees above him, and Astelleon briefly saw the flash of steel before the blade the figure held plunged into the corsairs neck.

The Testamonians had assured Octavius that they would be able to fully defend the farmers in the field. The Phoenix Guard were mostly there as a distraction to draw the Dark Eldar in. Unlike other forces Astelleon had been taught about, the Dark Eldar were not soldiers. Through and through, the Dark Eldar were pirates and slavers who were individually exceptional warriors. They focused more on lightning fast attacks against targets that were poorly protected and unprepared for them. In this field, they were exemplary. However, when their enemies were prepared and ready for them, the Dark Eldar's reliance on fast and lightly armored vehicles and warriors turned against them.

Still, the Dark Eldar attacks had been growing weaker over the past week. War parties had turned into individual squads, and large skirmishes in the field between roving Phoenix Guard and Testamonian forces had turned into small altercations with only a few shots fired on either side. Reports from Testamonian scouts indicated that the Dark Eldar had suffered such heavy casualties during the Phoenix Guards initial landing and attack on their prisoner convoy that they were only a few hundred of them left. Those warriors were needed to maintain the large prisoner compounds further south on the planet. Reports even said that one such camp was currently in the process of a revolt. Imperial forces had been told to stand down for the time being, as the compound in question was too far behind enemy lines at this point to assist in any meaningful manner.

Astelleon watched as the Testamonians vanished back into the forest, dragging the corpses with them. Even with all their skill, Astelleon had to question the validity of their reports. Information was a fickle thing. It could be misinterpreted, outdated or any number of other things. Commander Octavius decision to delay any actions against the southern compounds made tactical sense for now. Until either the information could be fully confirmed, or Fulgrim himself ordered it, the Phoenix Guards main mission was still to defend the civilians.

Astelleon felt a small impact on his leg, and he snapped his head around quickly. His reflexes tried to get him to raise the bolter in his hand and fire on whatever struck him, but he was able to halt his body as he looked down on his 'attacker.' A small girl stood before Astelleon, her large green eyes staring up at Astelleon under dark brown hair. In her hand, she held a small container, which his suits systems quickly informed him held water. Astelleon hesitated for a moment, turning to look at the other members of his squad. They had turned to see the scene unfolding before them, with various postures of curiosity and hesitation evident. Taking a deep breath, Astelleon mag-locked his bolter to his hip before reaching up and removing his helmet. He than crouched down on one knee, trying to bring himself closer to the girls height. He still towered above her, but she did not seem daunted in the slightest as she bit her lip in frustration, thrusting the container out to him again.

Smiling, Astelleon reached out and took the container, bringing it up to his lips to take a quick sip from it. He did not need the water, his suit and bodies systems would be able to sustain him for weeks yet with the nutrients he currently had. The smile on the girls face however was evidence enough for Astelleon he had made the right decision. He handed the container back to the girl, who grabbed it and spun on her heels, running back down the hill to a small cluster of children.

Fulgrim had instructed the Phoenix Guard to do their best to 'put at ease' the ingrained fear and awe the people of Tytos held Space Marines in. They needed to become comfortable around them if they were to become effect allies in the coming push to liberate the compounds of the south. They had not made any actions yet, but they were going to without a doubt. Once Fulgrim had handled the situation to the north, they would rally to end the threat once and for all.

As Astelleon pulled his helmet back on, he gripped his bolter with reverence as he turned back to his guard duty. He was truly looking forward to the day they would go on the offensive.

* * *

Sentus had served within several different battle fleets during his career in the Imperial Navy before Belisarius Cawl 'recruited' him to become the Captain of the Phoenix Guards fleet. During that time, he had fought the Eldar and Dark Eldar on a few occasions, and learned the Navy approved tactics for dealing with them.

When engaging the Eldar, an Imperial Captain needed to know that their enemies ships were faster and more maneuverable than their own. Attempting to ram Eldar ships or hit them with long range torpedo attacks were difficult at best to accomplish, forcing the Imperium to rely on broadsides and lance weaponry. The former still had the issue of potentially being avoided if the Eldar ship in question had enough distance on the Imperial vessel, so lance weaponry was usually the most effective.

The second thing Sentus had learned was that the Eldar knew the Imperium was aware of these rules, and so the best thing is to ignore them entirely and wing it. It was more effective in Sentus's mind if you could keep your opponent off guard, and so much more fun when he got to see one of the xenos crafts detonating at close range.

He was a simple man really, and he had to find pleasure in life where he could.

Ever since the Phoenix Guard forces had deployed to Tytos, Sentus had been leading their fleet elements in a system wide hunt for the Dark Eldar ships. He had left a few ships to maintain the blockade of Tytos to ensure the xenos could not escape or receive reinforcements, but took the _Octavius _and most of the escort ships to begin the hunt. In just under two weeks time, they had destroyed or crippled nearly a dozen Dark Eldar ships in return for only a single loss in return. Impressive combat ratios in any other circumstance, but Sentus knew he could do better.

He was up against simple pirates afterall.

Sentus stood on the command throne, his feet planted firmly where he should have been sitting. The command throne of the _Octavius_ had been designed for someone quite a bit taller than Sentus and there had been little time to adjust it before it was deployed for the Tytos campaign. It might have been a comical sight to the bridge crew if they had not been taught to accept it. Several shouting matches and bruised heads they had all endured ensured everything continued to run smoothly. Even as Sentus began to slightly bounce in place, growing more excited and energetic by the minute.

The _Octavius _had found one of the Dark Eldar corsair vessels making a run for Tytos. Every since the first deployment of the Phoenix Guard, the Dark Eldar had been doing everything they could to evacuate their forces from the planet. They had not come prepared for a full scale war, and were being torn apart piece meal by the Imperial forces they were confronted with. Each attempt to reach Tytos by the Dark Eldar ships had ended the same way. A new drifting pile of debris in the void.

This battle was looking to end much the same as those before. The fractured nature of the Dark Eldar command structure had seen their ships only making runs at Tytos in one or two ship assaults. Individually, the Dark Eldar ships did not have the strength or power to break through an Imperial attack squadron.

The _Octavius _was currently charging straight towards the Dark Eldar ship, the armored prow of the warship bearing down on the fragile ship. On the flanks of the Battle Barge, the escort ships and cruisers that made up the rest of the squadron were firing a concentrated and steady volley of lance volleys into the void around the Dark Eldar ship, creating a confined area where the corsair ship would have to pass if it intended to escape. Two further escort ships had circled around the back of the corsair ship, and were coming in below and above it to close off any last hopes of escape.

Sentus let out a cry of victory as the _Octavius _finally got in range of the corsair ship. He was nearly thrown off his feet as the armored prow of the Battle barge slammed into the side of the lightly armored xenos craft. Sentus watched with a gleam in his eyes as the ship was torn in half, a series of explosions erupted along the length of both halves of the ship before finally detonating. The large screens at the front of the bridge took a second to adjust to the sudden change in external light, and the crew who were looking were blinded for a second before more filters were added to block it out.

Grinning, Sentus slammed his fist down into the arm of the command throne as he turned his head towards his second in command, a brutish woman by the name of Aren. "Commander, begin relaying orders to the rest of the squadron to return to Tytos. I think we have turned deterred them for the time being." Aren nodded his shaved head, before stepping away from the command throne and shouting orders across the bridge. Her resonating baritone voice, that Sentus was at times jealous of echoed across the bridge with ease.

Sentus plopped down on the command throne as the _Octavius _turned and began to head back towards Tytos, the rest of the squadron quickly forming up around the flagship. He was playing a very defensive game at the moment, and he was getting quite bored. Fulgrim had made it clear he wanted to secure Tytos before they turned their full attention on the Dark Eldar fleet. Sentus had argued with the Primarch about it for nearly an hour, the shocked looks on many of the gathered officers faces showing their confusion that someone would dare to do so. It had not stopped the two from breaking down the advantages and disadvantages of each others point of view, and in the end even Sentus had to admit Fulgrim had made better points.

It did not mean he agreed with it, but he knew went to fold.

* * *

Fulgrim stood over the massive holo-table in the center of the Grand Hall, watching as various icons shifted their positions on the ever changing field. When he had arrested the Governor and banished the other nobles, Fulgrim had also ordered the feasting table to be removed and burned. In it's place he had a holo-table placed, and the Grand Hall had been converted into a command and control center for the defense of Tytos.

At his side, Honolos watched with controlled fascination as Fulgrim commanded the combined military power of an entire world with only a few commands. PDF regiments were being redeployed all along the front of the defense perimeter the Phoenix Guard Testamonians had been holding for on their own. Every movement of troops was precise and clear, with any gaps created in the lines as troops were moved being filled almost at once. Artillery divisions were being drawn up from whatever Fulgrim could scrape from the bowels of the hive cities armories, and predetermined firing zones were being marked by scouts.

At times Fulgrim would stop, turning to the young man and asking what he thought would be the next best option. The Primarch was constantly impressed by the insight the youth had, and he found himself only having to correct him a few times as everything was put into place. Fulgrim and the Phoenix Guard would not be on Tytos forever, and the planet would need a Governor that could defend it properly. Honolos was shaping up to be exactly what his world needed.

As they were preparing to oversee the creation of a new defense line around an isolated settlement cluster, a PDF soldier came sprinting through the open doors of the Grand Hall. He came to a halt as the two Phoenix Knights on either side of the opening crossed their halberds to stop him, and he paused. After a moment, he shook himself out of his confusion and turned to look back at Fulgrim.

"My Lord, there has been a security breach near the Governor's residential quarters. We have lost contact with several guards posted there already, and all the routes to the Governor have been sealed from the inside." Fulgrim grimaced as he pushed away from the table, glancing briefly at the concerned face of Honolos before he began to make his way out of the Grand Hall. The Phoenix Knights quickly fell into step behind the Primarch as he took off down the corridors, winding his way through a maze of arches and stairs until finally coming to one of the sealed doors the soldier had been talking about.

He placed his armored hand on the surface of the door, pressing against it briefly before taking a few steps back. Turning to face the door again, Fulgrim lowered his shoulder and sprinted forward. The corridor rang with the scream of tearing metal as the Primarch hurtled through the door, the Phoenix Knights quickly following through the large hole left in the barrier.

This far into the Governor Spire, the defenses were more for show then they were an actual protection against external threats. Any foe that was able to fight their way this far into the Governor's Spire had likely already conquered much of the hive city below it, and would likely not be stopped by the creation of thicker doors. Instead, more defenses were put at the entrances and exterior of the Spire. Still, as Fulgrim slammed through another door and charged down the corridor beyond, he figured they should have been stronger.

They passed the first bodies as they got to the level where the Governor's quarters actually were. PDF troopers lay scattered around the hall they were in, groaning and writhing from the evident wounds across their bodies. Fulgrim did not see any dead soldiers as he sprinted forward, though a few of their injures at first glance looked quite serious.

He arrived outside the Governor quarters to find the door wide open, and large enough for Fulgrim to enter without issue. Just beyond the threshold, a massive bed that would make even Fulgrim look minuscule dominated the center of the room, and the crying form of Governor Narius decorated it's end. In front of him, the familiar form of Natalia stood, holding a bloodied sword in her left hand, and aiming a bolt pistol directly at the Governor's head. Fulgrims eyes widened as he sprinted forward, thrusting his hand out to stop the Inquisitor.

"For the Emperor."

A staccato boom echoed in the room as the Governor's head snapped backwards, blood splattering against the bed as his body jerked backwards. Fulgrim watched in horror as Natalia stepped forward, firing several more shots directly into the Governor's gut. Fulgrim was shocked into stillness as Natalia slowly turned away from the bloated corpse of Narius, locking eyes with Fulgrim as he she holstered the bolt pistol.

Anger and confusion began to take over as Fulgrim took a step closer to Natalia, glaring down at her as the body of Narius continued to spasm slightly. His voice was quiet when he spoke, though his words could be heard easily even by the Phoenix Knights waiting by the door.

"What have you done…"

* * *

With that, the next Chapter of the Rising Flame is done. Thank you all for reading it, and I hope you enjoyed it. Please share this story with friends if you would like, ad leave a review so that I can continue to make this story better. ArisenMoon signing out.


	11. Chapter 11

Fulgrim stared down at the Inquisitor, his facial features revealing nothing he felt within. His body stood relaxed, his left hand resting comfortably on the hilt of the massive chainsword hanging from his hip. The only sign of any emotion flowing through the Primarch was his eyes. Natalia could barely bring herself to keep contact with the raging inferno she saw within them, but she stood her ground. She knew in an instant she could find herself dead on the ground, her body cleaved in two by the inhuman speed of the warrior before her. There was nothing she could do to truly stop him, but she did not falter.

"What have you done." The voice echoed through the suddenly all too quiet residential chambers, each word carefully delivered, almost melodically. They were in sharp contrast to the violent staccato of the bolt pistol Natalia still held in her hand, the weapon feeling heavier than it had in a long time. She glanced down at it, finally breaking eye contact with Fulgrim as she looked down at her arm. The metallic silver of her new appendage gleamed beneath the tattered remains of her clothing, a patchwork of burn and cut marks leaving large swaths of skin and metal exposed. Blood still dripped from a wound higher up on her shoulder, creating a small pool at her feet.

When she looked back up at Fulgrim, she saw that he had noticed the wounds across her body as well. The raging inferno behind his eyes had changed in one of caution. Fulgrim turned away from Natalia, looking back at the entrance of the Governors chambers. Four Phoenix Knights stood there silently, their helmets revealing nothing. Servants and officials peaked in from behind the door, barred from actually entering by the pikes of the Primarchs honor guard.

"Leave the room, and seal off this section of the Spire. No one is to leave until I speak with them personally." The Phoenix Knights nodded their heads before turning and departing from the chamber, gently pushing the people outside away before two of the Primaris Marines took up positions bodily blocking the open entrance of the room. Once they were alone, Fulgrim turned back to look at the Governor's body. He did not look at her again as he began to speak. A small mercy to be freed of his gaze.

"I promised the nobility of Tytos that they would be safe if they handed over control of the planet to me. They would maintain their titles, their powers and resume their places on this planet as its leaders once the campaign here ended. In return they submit, and pass over control without resistance or a fight. If they were to hear about this, then my word would mean nothing. They might resist us now." Fulgrim folded his hands behind his back, one gripping the other as he began to think.

"I had no choice in the matter. Things are unfolding on this planet that are far graver threat than the Eldar ever could be." As she spoke Natalia walked towards the bed, lifting the bolt pistol and firing a single shot into the Governor bloated belly. Fulgrim did not flinch as the shot rang out, though Natalia did see him raise his hand briefly, signalling the warriors at the door who had turned to investigate the sound to stand down. Immediately, Fulgrims eyes narrowed at the location of the new wound. Unlike the shot that had killed the Governor, there was no blood seeping from the wound. Instead, a green puss like substance was beginning to bubble out.

Natalia pressed the bolt gun to the side of the Governors stomach, pressing into it briefly.

Fulgrim almost took a step back as the Governors body let out a shudder, more green matter pouring out of his open wound. As they watched, the rest of the Governors body began to deflate, more ichor leaking out from hundreds of different locations. Skin broke apart to reveal rotten scraps dangling from cracked bones, and the smell that engulfed the room was one of the foulest smells he had ever experienced. In less than a minute there was almost nothing left of the Governors corpse, only a pile of rotting flesh and ruined clothing. Fulgrim took a step back as the slowly expanding pool of green puss drew closer to him, almost seeming to move with intent.

"Inquisitor, would you care to explain what...this is?"

* * *

The building was dimly lit. Natalia could barely see more than three meters in front of her in the gloom. Part of that was the complete and utter lack of windows. However, at the moment the primary reason seemed to be the literal layers of blood coating every single light fixture. It was heaped on the walls in various patterns, and had formed large pools along the narrow corridors. Natalia's steps had slowed slightly from the blood sticking to her boots. What disturbed Natalia the most about all of this was the fact there was not a single body.

The Inquisitorial garrison here was made up of twenty individuals. Natalia had not found a single trace of them besides the blood.

Natalia finally came to a partially open door, forcing her to duck as she entered the even darker chamber within. A single desk was placed in the center of the chamber, with a bed off to one side and a few shelves lining the opposite side of the wall. After ensuring she was alone in the room, Natalia holstered the bolter pistol in her hand before she made her way across the room to the desk. Unlike the rest of the garrison, the small residential office room, likely belonging to one of the Inquisitors stationed on Tytos, did not have a single drop of blood anywhere Natalia could see.

Walking around the desk, Natalia tapped a few commands onto the terminal display, inputting her Inquisitorial override command in. After a short wait the terminal screen came to life, text flashing across the screen in brief bursts before vanishing. Natalia grimaced as she pulled out a datapad from within the folds of her cloak, sliding it into an open port on the side of the terminal.

The compound itself was running on backup power, and that was nearly gone. The terminal would only be online for a short time after all the power was out. Inputting a few more commands, Natalia began an emergency data dump from the terminal onto the datapad. A brief chime echoed through the room when the process was completed, and the data pad ejected from the terminal. Natalia grabbed it and thumbed through the new files running across the screen. She ignored most of the information, focusing her attention on the personal files and reports of the Inquisitor. Glancing through them, Natalia found the last entry in the logs, and scrolled back some ways before it. A simple blink of her eyes opened the file she wished, and she began to read the information slowly scrolling across the datapad.

_Inquisitorial Data Report_

_Inquisitor Samiel Harkin_

_Begin Log_

_The Eldar assault has been underway for seven months now. Portions of the southern hemisphere have been taken by their raider forces, and several bastions have been built. The most recent assault by militia soldiers in the south on one such fortress ended in complete failure. Those that were not killed in the attack have been captured, added to those they had come to free. Words from the Governor's military command say that the planetary forces will begin establishing a new defense line in response to the failure to drive the Eldar back. _

_Aeilia and Vorash are both urging that we take a more active role in the defense of Tytos, but I have made it clear we task we have been given by the Conclave cannot be risked for the sake of a few million Imperial citizens. We shall remain within the compound, and continue to hope that our transmissions are getting through to the Conclave. Our transmissions off planet have been unable to get through. I have heard the serfs and storm troopers muttering that the Eldar are to blame…_

_I wish it was that simple._

_End Log_

Natalia lowered herself slowly into the chair at the terminal as she read the first entry. It was dated only a few months after the Eldar's assault must have begun. Inquisitor Samiel's decision to hold his resources back at the compound made sense. The Eldar had thus far at that point made no moves against the hive cities of the north. The direct need for Inquisitorial oversight in a rather straightforward raid was not necessary.

Besides, whatever must have been kept here was likely far more dangerous than the Eldar in their entirety. An Inquisitorial Conclave is a rare enough occurrence in the Imperium. The nature of the Inquisitors mission meant they were rarely not in the field, and even rarer for them to gather in any number. To gather enough Inquisitors together to form a Conclave, especially over just one issues as a prisoner, meant a great deal.

Natalia closed the file, scrolling down to read one dated several months after the first.

_Inquisitorial Data Report_

_Inquisitor Samiel Harkin_

_Begin Log_

_The Eldar have taken another settlement cluster. Estimates put the number of dead at nearly ten thousand, with twice that at least now added to the ever growing horde of wretches held within those damned fortresses. The failure of the defense forces to stand against the Eldar is troubling, though I am no military expert I am certain the failure does not lie with the soldiers. _

_Despite my best judgement I have dispatched Inquisitor Aeilia to investigate within the Governor's Spire. She is under strict orders not to reveal herself. Her only priority is to investigate the possible mishandling of military affairs in the south by the Governor and his staff, and see what could be done. The planetary leadership does not know of our presence here even after all these decades. That advantage should not be lost if at all possible. If we have to act when this war ends, it would be better to do so with surprise on our side. _

_Inquisitor Vorash reports that our charge as been growing far more active. I can feel its presence at the corner of my mind more and more everyday. We will have to rework the seals again to ensure it can not escape. If it did, the losses caused by the Eldar will pale in comparison to that which this world, and the rest of the sector would experience. _

_We must not fail. _

_End Log_

Natalia closed the file, lowering it briefly as she glanced up at the open doorway. She could have sworn she saw the briefest flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. She was certain something was there. Call it intuition or paranoia, but she was certain she was being observed at this point. The fact that whatever was watching her had not launched an immediate assault hinted at a few possibilities, but she did not focus on it too much.

She casually drew her side arm from her hip, placing it on the desktop with the barrel facing the door. She did not want to try crossing that threshold while whoever was out there could easily ambush her. They would come to her, where she could bottleneck them in the small doorway.

After several seconds of waiting, Natalia raised the datapad again, opening another file.

_Inquisitorial Data Report_

_Inquisitor Samiel Harkin_

_Begin Log_

_Aeilia and Vorash are dead. One of our agents within the Governor's Spire reported that she had been caught and tortured as a potential dissident and threat to the regime. Her body was on display in the banquet hall not long after that. I have pulled all our assets left in the Governor's Spire out and consolidated them here. The price the Governor and all his ilk shall pay for their actions will echo for centuries on this planet when I get my hands on them, but I must focus on more pressing issues. _

_Vorash was killed during a breach of the containment chambers. He held the line long enough for some of our personnel there to escape. I sealed the entrance with melta charges myself. His bravery deserved a better end, and I dread to think of what has become of him now, and all those who could not escape. New seals have been forged and a defensive perimeter established, but if the reports from the streets are correct, then I fear that it is too late. _

_We finally received word from the Conclave. A courier on a blockade runner broke through the Eldar blockade, and the courier was able to reach the compound. The Conclave is aware of what is happening here and is gathering necessary forces to come to our aid. We have been told to hold out until their relief force arrives. _

_They must hurry. _

_End Log_

Natalia slowly rose to her feet, holding the datapad at her side as she leveled the pistol at the doorway. She had begun to hear sounds, distant footsteps and voices. They were drawing closer by the second, but she estimated that she had a few more minutes before they got here.

The death of Inquisitor Aeilia was troubling, while the death of Inquisitor Vorash was devastating. The planetary leadership would be punished dearly for executing one of the Holy Inquisitions agents, but that could be dealt with later, as Inquisitor Samiel had agreed. The sacrifice of Vorash in the lower levels of this compound reinforced the dire threat of whatever they had all failed to contain. An Inquisitor does not idly throw their life away unless it is absolutely necessary.

As the footsteps continued to grow louder in the distance, Natalia opened the most recent entry, one dated nearly three months ago.

_Inquisitorial Data Report_

_Inquisitor Samiel Harkin_

_Begin Log_

_Everyone else is dead. At least they were when I killed them. At this point, I am not sure anymore. The defenses were erected in the lower levels were breached four days ago. I was there to engage the threat as it emerged, but our forces took heavy losses. We were forced to withdraw. I pulled every operative and asset we had left into the compound and armed them. We fought them every inch of the way, but it was no use. _

_I had to kill the others. They were compromised, I could see it in their eyes. They trusted me to keep them safe, and I ended up putting a round between each and every one of their eyes. What I did was a mercy for them, but I will never forget the look of betrayal in their eyes. Not for as long as I live. _

_Luckily that should not be for very long. _

_I can hear them coming now. I will make my stand at the entrance. The turrets should still be online, and I can seal the door. It won't be enough, but it is the least that I can do. I have done my duty, in the name of the God-Emperor and his Holy Inquisition. I have done my duty. _

_I can only hope the relief force is able to save the Imperium from my failure here._

_End Log_

Natalia thrust her hand into her cloak, pulling out three small spheres which she tossed through the open doorway in front of her, before flipping the desk over on its side and crouching down beneath it. A moment later, she heard the resounding explosions of the three fragmentation charges she had thrown, followed by the familiar sound of bodies crumbling to the floor. She rose and vaulted over the side of the desk, rushing out into the hallway. She had originally planned to force the enemy to come to here, but after reading the last report, she realized she had to get out of the compound.

Now.

She stepped over the still twitching leg of a man. Most of his chest and face had been torn away from the charges, and blood was beginning to pool beneath him. Four other figures were spread out around the hallway, some moving and others not. Natalia did not have time to deal with them. She turned and sprinted down the various corridors she had passed on her way in, her eyes making out writhing forms where there used to be only darkness.

As she rounded another corner, reflex took control of her body. Before she had even registered the figure standing just around the corner, or the blade that flew towards her exposed neck she was reacting. She fired two point blank shots from her bolt pistol into the man's exposed chest, while at the same time using her free hand to shove his arm out of the way, sending his strike wide. The metal threw up sparks as it hit the wall, illuminating two more figures as they came at Natalia from a nearby doorway. She turned to face them, firing quick bursts from her bolt pistol into each of them, watching as the bodies crumbled backwards to the ground.

As she began to turn, reloading her pistol in the same motion, she came face to face with the man she had just killed. Pain flared through her side as his blade cut into her side, and she threw herself back, grunting as her back struck the cold metal of the wall. She gripped her free hand to her side, feeling the warm blood trickle over her clasped fingers. She raised the bolt pistol again, staring down the man that stumbled towards her. She could barely see anything in the darkness, but the two gaping holes in his chest, where his heart and lungs were hard to miss. Blood poured from the wounds, but the man did not seem to notice them.

She fired another shit straight through the man's skull. He jerked backwards from the impact, before collapsing to the ground in a heap. Glancing to her side, Natalia watched as the two other figures she had shot began to get up, before two more shots put them down again as well.

It was worse than she had feared.

She set off again down the corridor, finally drawing close to the entrance. Sunlight poured through the opening as she drew closer. Just before she could step through the opening however, she felt a hand grasped her shoulder. She found herself flying through the air, before slamming into the ground. The wind rushed from her lungs as she cried out from the impact, the wound in her side screaming just as loud from the action.

Glancing up, Natalia saw a robed individual standing just inside the threshold of the compound. He was entirely devoid of hair, a fact Natalia could see included every inch of his body. More disturbing however were the open sores and scars all across his body. A dark puss flowed constantly from each such sore. He had an immense gut that was completely disproportionate to the rest of his frame, and Natalia could see several of his internal organs through openings on it. The light green robe blended almost seamlessly with his sickly skin. She was glad the filter in her nose had shut down her ability to smell anything sometime ago. A smile filled with rotten teeth greeted Natalia as the man began to walk towards her, a butchers knife in his hand gleaming in the light as he inched forward. Unlike the others, his movement seemed to be more fluid and controlled.

"My friend, where do you think you are going? There is so much left for you to see!" The voice that came from the man's mouth reverberated as if his lungs and throat were filled with liquid. Given what she could see, she would not be surprised if that was the case. She snapped the bolt pistol up, firing a quick volley of shots into the man's body, with a final shot piercing the man's head. His body jerked with each round that pierced his skin, though he remained standing. After a moment's pause, the man's head slowly came back down. Liquefied brain matter fell from the circular wound in his skull, though the smile on his face was unchanged.

He began marching towards her again, but before he could even take two more steps a bright crimson light lit up the corridor. The man's left leg was suddenly gone, and he collapsed to the ground, the smile never falling from his face as he stared down at the stump that remained of his upper leg

.

They both turned to look at the figure that stepped through the threshold of the compound, and this time Natalia was the one to smile briefly at the development. The pure black armor of the figure was unmistakable as the Testamonian guardsmen took another step forward, leveling his double barreled lasgun and firing a rapid volley into the man's chest, each blast vaporizing yet more of him. Eventually he stopped moving, and the guardsmen turned to face down the corridor, advancing to a position just beyond Natalia and began opening fire at things Natalia could not see. Two more figures rushed through the entrance, their weapons slung at their sides. They crouched down on either side of the Inquisitor, grasping her shoulders and lifting her up. She grunted from the pain that shot up her side, but nodded her head in thanks as the two guardsmen carried her out of the compound, the third laying down suppressing fire.

Natalia had to close her eyes against the sudden blinding light as they emerged back into the hive city. When she opened her eyes, she saw two more guardsmen on either side of the door, setting charges along the doorway as the last member of the group ducked through. The two Testamonians carrying Natalia set her down against a nearby wall as they turned back around, in one seamless motion raising and firing their lasguns into the entrance. They held back whatever it was Natalia could not see long enough for the two guardsmen at the entrance to finish their work. A moment later, the Testamonians all took a step back as a wave of detonations ran up along the entrance. The building above them began to crumble, and debris quickly filled the entrance of the compound. They had not actually done any damage to the compound itself, the Inquisition would have seen to it that the interior of the compound had been reinforced to survive potential orbital bombardment for a time. The Testamonians had instead collapsed the exterior facade the compound had used for cover, sealing the entrance into the compound itself.

It was a smart move on their part, but it would only delay the things inside.

Gritting against the pain, Natalia pushed herself to her feet, before marching towards one of the guardsmen. He turned to face the Inquisitor as she drew close, and he briefly brought his fist up across his armored chest to salute her. "Guardsmen, we have to get news to Fulgrim immediately. Do you have a vox unit?" The guardsmen shook his head, his left hand lowering to his side and beginning to flash a series of hand signals to the other Testamonians even as he began to speak to Natalia.

"Our vox caster was lost along with the rest of our squad in an ambush not far from here. We were withdrawing back towards the upper levels when we picked up your signal." Natalia nodded at the soldiers words, turning to glance up at the upper levels of the hive city she could just barely see through the layer upon layer of hab-blocks and walkways haphazardly built.

"We need to get up there and warn Fulgrim. Give me a medical kit then we need to get moving."

The guardsmen nodded his head, opening a small section of his armor to pull out a small medical kit. He set to work patching up Natalia's wound as best he could, though the sound of approaching footsteps and echoing laughter forced him to rush his work. Finally Natalia just waved him off, before turning and signalling for the Testamonians to follow her. They set off at a fast jog through the lower levels of the hive city, passing streets Natalia had been through only a short while ago, and yet they were almost unrecognizable.

There was not a single person or body left in sight as the Imperials ran for their life through the shadows of the under hive.

* * *

And there we go, the next chapter of The Rising Flame. Sorry for the delay, I did not have internet set up at my new apartment for quite a bit and have only now gotten it up and running. Hoping to get back into the swing of things before long, but figured I could go ahead and post this next chapter. As always, please like and follow the story, and please leave a review so that I can continue to make the story better for you and for me. ArisenMoon signing off.


	12. Chapter 12

Fulgrim stared at the disgusting remains of Governor Narius. He listened to Natalia's report of all she had seen and discovered in the lower levels of the hive city, his eyes never leaving the pool of green and brown liquid that continued to slowly spread across the floor. He shook his head slightly as he took a step away from the massive bed dominating the room, barely turning his attention to Natalia as she finished her report and a medic tended to her wounds. If what she said was true, and all the evidence at the moment pointed to that conclusion, than he understood why her actions had been necessary.

However, she had acted on her own, without informing him or anyone else as to her actions until she had completed the mission she had set for herself. From what little he understood, such straightforward and impulsive tactics were common of the Inquisition. A useful trait to have, but dangerous as well. Inquisitors had the authority and training required to decide what was in the greater good of the Imperium and act on it. Without oversight, Fulgrim feared that could eventually lead to the Inquisition's goals begin to change. It was troubling, but not nearly as troubling as what was currently going on this forsaken planet.

"We need to begin evacuating the lower levels of the city. Get everyone we can away from the infected in the lower levels and establish security zones. With the deployment of the PDF to the south, we will have to rely entirely on the use of the Arbites. We will also need to send word to the other hive cities. We need to get a clearer picture of how far this infection could have possibly spread…" Fulgrim spoke mostly to himself as he turned to leave the room, Natalia moving to keep up with him despite the protests of the medic.

The two of them stepped through the doorway into the corridor outside the Governor's private chambers, the two Phoenix Knights standing guard shifting their weapons to clear the way for the Primarch and Inquisitor. They fell into step behind them as they moved away from the scene back towards the Grand Hall. Fulgrim was still thinking through what needed to be done as Natalia cleared her throat, drawing the Primarchs attention to her.

"Fulgrim, it's too late for the lower levels. Whatever started this infection, it has been free for months now. The only reason this city has not been overrun already is because whoever is truly leading the corrupted wanted to remain in secret. The planetary leadership was corrupted to further push their goals and weaken any potential response they could have made. Now that we are onto them, they will no longer remain in the shadows. The Governor and the other nobility are likely the reason for the food shortages and disease spreading across the hive cities. They were probably gathering all the food from the south and destroying whatever they themselves did not eat in secret, while abandoning the farmers to prevent them from cultivating and gathering more. It is impossible to be certain how far the infection has already spread, but with the highest levels of the planetary government corrupted..." She fell silent as Fulgrim snapped his head around to stare down at her. She felt herself faltering in her stride at the look in his eyes. The warmth and levity she had come to expect from the Primarch was gone, replaced by an unwavering and calculating demigod. He knew what she was going to say next, and despite how much he hated it, she knew he had already come to the same conclusion as her.

"We have to abandon the city. There is no way we can no for sure who is infected and who is not. For all we know, the Arbites themselves could all be infected or part of the corrupting themselves. We could find ourselves surrounded on all sides by enemies and former allies alike. We have to abandon the city and quarantine it. We can make efforts to save the other cities, but making our stand here to try and save this one is too dangerous." The group came to a halt at the bottom of a staircase, Fulgrim pausing with one leg on the step above, his head staring down at the floor. After several moments of silence, Fulgrim nodded his head.

"We will leave this city, but I refuse to abandon everyone here to damnation. Send word, quietly, for an evacuation to begin in the middle levels of the city. The lower levels might be lost, and the upper levels corrupted, but I have to hold out hope that we can still save some of the people here." His words echoed in the empty chamber as they climbed the stairs to the next level of the Spire, passing several servants and officials as they rushed to their tasks while still trying to avoid the dark aura that seemed to radiate from the Primarch.

"Billions of people will die because of the actions of the nobility. Whether by their own decision or through corruption, they have sold their souls to a darker power." Fulgrim came to a halt once he had entered the Grand Hall. A Phoenix Guard Captain by the name of Bracus, recently brought in along with his eighth company to maintain order within the hive city saluted Fulgrim as he entered, bowing his head further as the Primarch turned and approached him.

"Captain, send word to your company. They are begin exterminating the nobility and their personal forces where they are confined. Leave no one alive…" The Captain hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding his head, pulling his helmet over his head and quickly marching out of the Grand Hall. Natalia stepped aside to let him depart, her eyes returning to Fulgrim as he walked over to the holo table in the middle of the Grand Hall, putting his arms on it as he stared at the flickering image of the city before him.

"It is impossible to tell who is and is not corrupted among the nobility, it would seem. Their families, their guards, their servants...they must all be killed to ensure the corruption does not escape." Natalia nodded at the Primarchs words, agreeing entirely with his decision. She would have made the call in a heartbeat without regret, but she could see that the decision was not as simple for Fulgrim to make.

He turned his attention to the large holo image of the hive city floating before him as Natalia took a seat nearby, finally allowing the medic to properly work on her injury. Fulgrim typed a few commands into the terminal set into the side of the holo table, and the image began to change, focusing from the entire hive city to a small set of gates on one side of the city. They looked small in the hologram, but in reality they were each over a hundred meters tall, set within the curtain wall that protect the hive city proper. Fulgrim input a few more commands, before three large gates began to glow in the image.

"We will close every entrance to the city except for these three gates. We will establish a screening station at each of these gates and filter out those that we can be sure are clean. We will erect temporary encampments ten kilometers away from the city to house them for the time being until we are able to properly move them to safety. It is a long journey to the south for them to make on foot, we would have to bring up every transport we could scavenge…" Fulgrim trailed off as another voice spoke up.

"There is another place they can go."

Fulgrim and Natalia turned their attention away from the table as two of the Phoenix Knights entered the Grand Hall, with Honolos Ophilia between them. Fulgrim stared at the son of the former Governor for a few seconds before he waved the two Knights off and gestured for Honolos to approach. As the youth crossed the Grand Hall towards Fulgrim, Natalia began to reach for the bolt pistol at her side. Fulgrim shot her a brief glance, the act alone staying her hand as he stood up to his full height.

"Honolos can be trusted. Unlike his father and the others, I did not feel on edge when I spoke with him, Natalia. I should have trusted my feelings than, but it is too late to think about that now." Fulgrim turned to look down at Honolos as he came to stand across from the Primarch, staring silently at the holo image. His face was extremely pale, and Fulgrim noted the regular twitches and gripping of his hands around his folded arms. "I take it you know what happened to your father then?" A simple nod was the only answer Fulgrim received from the youth, and he decided not to press the matter for now.

"What is this other place they can go for safety?" Fulgrims question finally roused a response from Honolos as he typed in a few commands into the terminal on his side. The hologram suddenly jumped and began to travel across the landscape of Tytos, passing over vast distances in seconds before finally coming to rest on a mountain chain. The image began to focus down and draw closer to a structure set into the side of the mountain, overlooking the vast plains before it. There were dozens of balconies spread out all along the mountain side, and trees not native to Tytos were visible in lush gardens every few levels. Fulgrim could not see any ground entrance to the location, and as far as he could see the first level started at least fifty meters above the ground by a quick estimation in his head.

"This is the Summer Palace of the Ophilia family. It was built two thousand years ago by one of my distant relatives. The snow in the mountains is too thick for most of the year to be traversed or used for entertainment, but during the summer enough of it melts that some of the passes and valleys become passable. The only entrance from the ground is a small gate built into the mountain itself for servants and other non nobility to enter. A majority of the complex itself is carved into the mountain far inside, with passages to other such complexes in several of the nearby mountains. It is one of the few places I actually enjoy going to on Tytos…" Honolos shook his head as a brief series of memories came back to him. Memories of better times before the Eldar, and before the change his father went through.

"If we are careful with how we house everyone, I suspect we can get a few thousand people into the actual Palace itself, and millions more into the sheltered valleys and caves further into the mountain range. There is no ground passage into the deeper mountain range for a hundred kilometers in either direction, so we should be able to keep the people safe. It's about a weeks distance away on foot, but it's much closer than the nearest southern settlement cluster." Honolos took a step away from the table after he finished speaking, looking up at Fulgrim.

The Primarch did not meet his eyes as he focused on the Summer Palace. He was already constructing a mental image of the best ways to fortify and defend the Summer Palace. In his mind he could see the exact range of every weapon he had at his disposal, the best locations to establish sniper positions and where heavy weapons teams would have the best firing arcs. In less than a minute he had constructed a fortress in his mind with overlapping fields of fire and redundant defensive points to protect against any potential break through attempts.

"This will work. Honolos, you will take everyone that you need to get the Summer Palace fully operational within a week. It needs to be ready for the arrival of the refugees." Honolos nodded, turning to exit from the Grand Hall without another word. Fulgrim was already issuing his next series of orders before Honolos was even out of ear shot.

"Natalia, once you are able you will take charge of the evacuation. For the time being we are going to have to put our faith in that we can trust the Arbites to help us. We will deploy them to block off the upper and lower levels of the hive, and begin evacuating the middle levels. Those that we can spare should be sent to keep order at the three gates. I will also dispatch what Testamonians we have in the city as well. You will be stationed there to help with the screening. I will take personal command of the Arbites forces and the eighth company to maintain the barricades of the other two levels for as long as we can. When it is no longer possible, I will withdraw the Arbites and eighth company back to the gates, and we will seal them closed. Natalia, I want you to ensure that once the gates close, they cannot open again." Fulgrim frowned as he gave the last instruction. He knew it was necessary to protect those not infected from the things Natalia had reported fighting in the lower levels, but it still weighed on him that he could be condemning millions, and potentially billions of people to their horrific deaths on nothing more than a suspicion.

He wondered if Inquisitors had the same regrets that he did.

* * *

The Dark Eldar fortresses were massive constructions. Given their rather temporary nature, the sheer scale of them was surprising. Five massive walls were built in overlapping layers, with each wall taller than the one before it. Massive guard towers were placed at regular intervals along the length of each wall, and artillery emplacements had been constructed on raised hills within the inner most two wall sections. The pure black walls were lined with human sized cages, held suspended by chains over the empty space beneath each wall. A large tower rose up from the center of the fortress, with weapon emplacements and landing pads dotting it's length.

It was an impressive fortress, though one that could have been overtaken by concentrated effort. The PDF and militia forces on Tytos did not have the equipment or training to successfully besiege and take these fortresses, but the Phoenix Guard had both. However, to free up enough marines and equipment for the Phoenix Guard to begin launching attacks on any fortress would leave vulnerable gaps within the defensive line while the redeployment orders were still being filtered down.

Finally however, Commander Octavius had been given permission to begin liberating the fortresses.

Two companies worth of Phoenix Guard marines were drawn from various locations in the defensive perimeter, quickly replaced by newly arrived PDF troops. Under the cover of darkness, the armored convoy of various combat vehicles departed from the defense line, while the two companies of marines were loaded onto thunderhawk gunships. The next morning, just as the sun begins to rise over the fortress, the Phoenix Guard launched their attack.

Whirlwind artillery units unleashed a salvo of missiles while still cloaked in darkness, the hundreds of projectiles arcing high into the air and coming directly down among the fortress. Delayed defensive fire was fired up to meet the incoming missiles but most still struck their targets. Explosions rocked the fortress, careful to avoid the massive pens filled with captured civilians located within the third and largest wall section. Just as the Eldar began to respond to the sudden assault, the second volley of missiles were launched from the whirlwinds, followed swiftly by the second wave of the assault.

Flying dangerously low to the ground, a flight of thunderhawk transports approached from all sides of the fortress, passing bare feet above the encircling Phoenix Guard armored column. The thunderhawks flew _into_ the second wave of missiles, finding perfectly empty space that had been left by the careful targeting and calculation of the combat units on the ground. The thunderhawks hurled themselves towards the fortress, the missiles around them acting as cover from anti air rounds that shot up to try and intercept them. Just before the thunderhawks impacted the fortress walls, they shot directly up into the air. The second wave of missiles erupted across the fortress as the rear ramps of the thunderhawks flung open, and dozens of purple clad giants plummeted from their holds.

Just before impacting the ground, the assault marines activated the jump packs on their backs, slowing their descent just before they slammed into the walls and ground of the fortress. Several marines were shot from the sky during their brief descent, but most of the warriors landed without injury. They quickly set to work attacking the Eldar manning the walls with chainswords and bolt pistols. The moment the heavy weaponry was diverted by the melee erupting around it, the third and final wave launched their attack.

Emerging from in between the still firing whirlwinds were the predator tanks and rhino transports of the Phoenix Guard, with a single land raider leading the forward charge. The predators and land raider opened fire on outermost wall of the fortress, already weakened from the constant barrage of the whirlwinds. The hundreds of meters between the charging vehicles and fortress walls saw a constant barrage of energy weapons and ballistic fire tear into it's frame, until cracks began to slowly expand. Chunks of the wall began to fall off when the vehicles were less than a dozen meters away, and the few Eldar left standing on the outer wall quickly realized what the Phoenix Guard planned.

Without slowing their pace, the predator tanks and land raider plowed full speed into the severely weakened outer wall of the fortress. Huge sections collapsed as the armored bulk of the vehicles carried them through the wall. Each vehicle fired a quick volley of weaponry into the area immediately around where it emerged in the fortress, before rapidly reversing back out the breaches they had just made. A moment later, the rhino transport entered the now empty gaps in the wall, ramps lowering and disgorging their cargo of armored warriors as their heavy weaponry opened fire on any Eldar that were in range.

With Phoenix Guard marines on their walls and now spreading through the lower levels of their fortress, the Eldar began to make a rapid withdraw back towards the massive tower in the center of the fortress, which is standing strong against the assault, firing endless barrages of fire into any Phoenix Guard marine that draws too close. In less than an hour the outer three walls are fully secured by the Phoenix Guard, who use the remaining defenses of the fortress to lay siege to the large tower. With no further targets within the Phoenix Guard controlled areas of the fortress, every armored vehicle in the assault, including the circling thunderhawk transports begin to relentless pound the tower.

By the end of the second hour, the tower lay in ruins, with tactical marines pouring into the lower levels to begin clearing out the few remaining Eldar raiders. With the immediate threat under control, the slave pens holding the captured Tytos civilians are torn open, with Phoenix Guard apothecaries rushing into the confused and terrified groups of slaves to begin treating them as best they can. Some art too far gone from weeks to potentially months of torture and torment at the hands of the Eldar, but some of the more recently captured still stand a chance of being helped.

By the end of the third hour, the only sound echoing across the smoldering fortress is the crying voices of those delivered from the deepest realms of torment, and the dying cries of Eldar raiders being dragged from their last hiding places by the rage driven Phoenix Guard.

Octavius stood on the battered remnants of the fifth wall section, cleared of all debris and blood from the recent battle to make way for the grim task before him. Laid out in three rows of five before Octavius were the fallen of this day. Fifteen Phoenix Guard marines,each having given their lives to save those currently being treated to far below. Octavius had ordered that this duty be undertaken far from their eyes. The people there, those still able to think clearly to any regard anyway did not need to see their saviors, the Emperor's avenging angels as they were before Octavius. They needed to know they were safe now, and the immortality of the Primaris needed to be reinforced in their eyes.

More importantly however, this was a very private matter.

Two apothecaries in their pure white armor, now drenched in red from the battle and the task they now undertook moved among the still bodies, their armored fists rising and falling as they extracted the gene-seed from the fallen. Standing in two perfect rows behind Octavius were the assembled sergeant of each squad that lost a warrior in the assault. The captains of the two companies deployed in the battle had taken charge of the efforts to help the civilians. By tradition, the sergeant's of the fallen would stand watch as the men under their command performed their final and ultimate duty to the Phoenix Guard.

Once the apothecaries finished their work, they took a few steps away from the dead, turning their backs to them. Octavius turned as well, watching as the various sergeants's stepped around him and approached the fallen member of their squad. In unison, the sergeant's each quietly spoke an oath of the moment to avenge the death of their squad mate, and an individual private message. Once they were done, they crouched down and reached into the raised neck guard of the fallens armor. Just inside the neck guard were small plates engraved with the name of the warrior. The sergeant disengaged it from the armor, before standing up with it in their palms. Saying a final vow, the sergeant's fixed the name plates to their own armor, around the armored gauntlets of their right hands. The name plates would remain with the sergeant until his own death, at which time the new sergeant would take up the name plate of the sergeant and all of his charges, giving them over to the captains of the respective companies to be entered into the records of the chapter. So far, the Phoenix Guard had only been forced to do such once in their history of service to Belisarius Cawl.

Octavius did not wish to oversee that grim ritual again.

The bodies were beginning to be loaded onto a waiting thunderhawk transport when Octavius received a priority command vox signal. He quickly pulled his helmet back on, opening the transmission. "Commander, you are going to need to see this."

* * *

Astelleon stared down at the two name plates now pinned to his armor, their silver coating standing out against his purple and gold armor. Regulus and Caestes, young warriors even by the standard of the Phoenix Guard. Their first combat operation had been to support Fulgrim on the tech world. They had been filled with such youthful enthusiasm, throwing themselves head first into combat without caution or fear. Now they were gone. Astelleon would carry their names with him the rest of his life, even should he become a captain one day. They had given their lives for the Imperium. Their names would never be forgotten.

After completing the ritual, Astelleon had returned to the lower levels of the fortress, to assist with the sorting and relocation of the former slaves. The remaining members of his squad were spread out over roughly fifty meters, walking among the frightened individuals, the mere presence of the Primaris equally reassuring and frightening the people. Astelleon turns his head as a large transport truck comes to a halt nearby. Doctors and militia members from one of the farming settlements quickly exit the vehicle, moving to disperse themselves among the former slaves. A few reunions occur, as families or friends are reunited against all odds in the war torn ground of the fortress.

Astelleon turns his head away from the scene, his eyes focusing on the tower rising in the distance. Commander Octavius and many of the other officers had rushed to the tower right after the ceremony. An underground chamber had been discovered in the ruins of the tower, and one of the squads exploring the new find had reported something strange. Octavius had taken many of the sergeant's with him, being the nearest marines when he received the message, before the two captains were also summoned to the tower. Astelleon, as one of the youngest sergeants had been left behind to continue the mop up operation. Whatever they had found in the tower was evidently of great importance, and it annoyed Astelleon slightly that he had been left out of the loop.

He was drawn from his thoughts as a figure approached him out of the corner of his eye. He snapped his head around as all his combat instincts began to scream at him to act, as an uneasy feeling crept across his body as he took in the person before him. Unlike most of the other former slaves, the man before Astelleon did not wear rags or civilian clothes. Instead, Astelleon could see what once used to be noble clothing, with hints of bright colors emerging beneath the grime of being trapped in the cages.

"My lord, I had to come and thank you. I do not know what would have happened if I had been trapped here for much longer. You and your brothers all deserve..._**a reward." **_The last words from the nobles mouth were vastly different from the rest, becoming far deeper and distorted as if he had liquid in his lungs. A moment later, a huge explosion erupted in the distance, and Astelleon snapped his head around just in time to see the massive pillar of fire shoot up into the sky, consuming what remained of the tower in the raging inferno.

He had just enough time to turn back to face the noble as his body began to change. His gut exploded out in every direction, doubling than tripling his size. His legs let out a sickening crack as his bones torn themselves apart and reformed, bringing the formerly short man to nearly the same height as Astelleon. His skin took on a greenish brown hue, and all his hair exploded outward along with a wave of green and black puss. The liquid coated dozens of the nearest people around the man, who immediately began to scream in agony as their skin began to burn. In total, the change took less than a second.

Astelleon drew the power sword at his side, blue power humming along the weapon as he activated it and took a step away from the _thing _before him. Around the courtyard, the other Phoenix Guard marines, first shocked by the sudden explosion of the tower and then the change of the noble had begun to move to assist Astelleon when hundreds of former slaves, who had been standing perfectly still in clusters or curled up on the ground launched themselves at the marines and militia forces alike.

In less than five seconds the formerly peaceful place had erupted into a brand new warzone. Grimacing beneath his helmet, Astelleon readied himself to face the thing that lumbered towards him, before suddenly launching forward at a speed Astelleon thought impossible.

"_**I hope you enjoy the rewards of the Plague Father!"**_

* * *

And there it is, the next installment of the ever developing war of Tytos. I hope you all enjoyed reading the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please follow this story, and leave a review so that I can continue to make this story better for everyone involved.

On a second note, I made the decision to not use the new Primaris rank titles and unit names. Not everyone is entirely up to date on them, and so I will continue to use the old names to ease any confusion, partially on my part.

I am looking for a beta reader to help me edit and revise this story. If you would be interested send me a message and we will see if we can work something out.

ArisenMoon signing off.


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